-*    ., , , 

OUGHTS  PAD  FOR 


^  :ORGE  BROADHURST 


SAMUEL  FRENCH.  25  West  45th  St.,  New  York 


MRS.  PARTRIDGE  PRESENTS 

Comedy  in  3  acts.  By  Mary  Kennedy  and  Ruth  Haw« 
thorne.  6  males,  6  females.  Modern  costumes.  2  interiorOh 
Plays  2^/^  hours. 

The  characters,  scenes  and  sitnations  are  thoroughly  np-to* 
date  in  this  altogether  delightful  American  coinedy.  The  heroin» 
ii  a  'woman  of  tremendous  energy,  who  manages  a  business — ab 
ahe  manages  everything — with  great  succest,  and  at  home  pre- 
sides over  the  destinies  of  a  growing  son  and  daughter.  Heir 
■trnggle  to  give  the  children  the  opportunities  she  herself  had 
missed,  and  the  children's  ultimate  revolt  against  her  well-meanV 
management — that  is  the  basis  of  the  plot.  The  son  who  is  cast 
tor  the  part  of  artist  and  the  daughter  who  is  to  go  on  the  Btagt> 
offer  numerous  opportunities  for  the  development  of  the  comio 
possibilities  in  the  thenie. 

The  play  is  one  of  the  most  delightfnl,  yet  thongbt-provokine 
American  comedies  of  recent  years,  and  is  warmly  recommended 
lo  all  amateur  groups.     (Boyalty  on  application.)     JPricei  75  Cent»« 


IN  THE  NEXT  ROOM 

Melodrama  in  3  acts.  By  Eleanor  Eobson  and  Harriet 
Ford.  8  aiales,  3  females.  2  interiors.  Modern  costumes. 
Plays  2^/4  hours. 

"Philip  Vantine  has  bought  a  rare  copy  of  an  original  Bouls 
cabinet  and  ordered  it  shipped  to  his  New  York  home  from  Paris. 
When  it  arrives  it  is  found  to  be  the  original  itself,  the  pos- 
cession  of  which  is  desired  by  mary  strange  people.  Before  the 
mystery  concerned  with  the  cabinet's  shipment  can  be  cleared 
np,  two  persons  meet  myftericr.s  death  fooling  with  it  and  the 
bappiness  of  many  otherwise  happy  actors  is  threatened"  (Bum« 
Mantle).  A  flrst-rate  mystery  play,  comprising  all  the  elements 
•f  suspense,  curiosity,  comedy  and  drama.  "In  the  Next  Room" 
la  quite  easy  to  sta-ge.  It  can  be  unrr-^ervedly  recommended  to 
higk     aehoolt     uxi     coUegei*       (Koyalty,     twenty-five     dollars.) 

^xice,  75  Centa, 


SAMUEL  FRENCH.  23  West  45th  Street,  New  York  Ctt) 
(Sjk  N«w  Paaciiptiya  Catalogue  Seat  Fraa  rm  Request 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR 


A  Play  in  Four  Acts 


BY 


GEORGE  BROADHURST 


Copyright,  1910.  by  GEORGE  H.  BROADHURST 
Copyright,  1916,  by  THEATRICAL  PRODUCING  COMPAilt 


CAUTION.— AH  persons  are  hereby  warned  that  BOUGHT  ANl) 
PAID  FOR,  being  fully  protected  under  the  copyright  laws  of  the 
United  States,  is  subject  to  royalty,  and  anyone  presenting  th-  play 
without  the  consent  of  the  author  or  his  agent,  will  be  liable  to  the 
penalties  by  law  provided.  Application  for  stage  rights  must  be  'nad* 
to  SAMUEL  FRENCH 


ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


New  York 
SAMUEL  FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

25  WEST  4STH  STREET 


London 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  Ltd. 

26  Southampton  Street 

STRAND 


BOUGHT  AND    PAID   FOR 
ALL    RIGHTS   RESERVED 


Especial  notice  should  be  taken  that  the  possession  of 
this  book  without  a  valid  contract  for  production  first 
having  been  obtained  from  the  publisher,  confers  no  right 
or  license  to  professionals  or  amateurs  to  produce  the  play 
publicly  or  in  private  for  gain  or  charity. 

In  its  present  form  this  play  is  dedicated  to  the  reading 
public  only,  and  no  performance,  representation,  produc- 
tion, recitation,  or  public  reading,  or  radio  broadcasting 
may  be  given  except  by  special  arrangement  with  Samuel 
French,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York. 

This  play  may  be  presented  by  amateurs  upon  payment 
of  a  royalty  of  Twenty-Five  Dollars  for  each  perform- 
ance, payable  to  Samuel  French,  25  West  45th  Street, 
New  York,  one  week  before  the  date  when  the  play  is 
given. 

Whenever  the  play  is  produced  the  following  notice  must 
appear  on  all  programs,  printing  and  advertising  for  the 
play:  "Produced  by  special  arrangement  with  Samuel 
French  of  New  York." 

Attention  is  called  to  the  penalty  provided  by  law  for 
any  infringement  of  the  author's  rights,  as  follows. 

"Section  4966: — Atiy  person  publicly  performing  or  rep- 
resenting any  dramatic  or  musical  composition  for  which 
copyright  has  been  obtained,  without  the  consent  of  the 
proprietor  of  said  dratnatic  or  musical  composition,  or  his 
heirs  and  assigns,  shall  be  liable  for  damages  thereof,  such 
damages,  in  all  cases  to  be  assessed  at  such  sum,  not  less 
than  one  hundred  dollars  for  the  first  and  fifty  dollars  for 
every  subsequent  performance,  as  to  the  court  shall  appear 
to  be  just.  If  the  unlawful  performance  and  representation 
be  wilful  and  for  profit,  such  person  or  persons  shall  be 
guilty  of  a  misdemeanor,  and  upon  conviction  shall  be  iin- 
prisoned  for  a  period  not  exceeding  one  year."— rU.  S. 
Revised  Statutes:  Title  60,  Cha2.  3. 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 


A  Play  in  Four  Acts 

By  George  Broadhurst. 

Originally  produced  at  The  Playhouse,  New  York, 
Sept.  26th,  191 1,  with  the  following  cast: 

Robert  Stafford Charles  Rich  man 

James  Gilley Frank  Craven 

Okv Allan  Atwell 

Louis Edgar  Hill 

Virginia  Blaine Julia  Dean 

Fanny  Blaine Marie  Nordstrom 

Tosephine Dorothy  Davieii 


SYNOPSIS. 

Act  I.      Robert  Stafford's  apartment. 
Act  II.    Mrs.  Stafford's  boudoir. 
Act  III.  Same  as  Act  II. 
Act  IV.  James  Gilley's  flat. 

The  Time  is  the  present. 

The  Action  takes  place  in  New  York  City. 
3 


2115163 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2007  witii  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcli  ive.org/details/bouglitpaidforplaOObroaiala 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 


IMPORTANT  PROPS  ON: 

Peach  blow  vase  on  mantel  r. 

Ivory  carving  on  table  R.  c. 

Lighted  lamp  on  table  r.  c 

Stool  R.  end  of  sofa. 

READY  OFF: 

L.  u.  E.  ON  TABLE — For  Oku — silvcF  cigEf  t)ox  and 
cigarette  box,  matches  and  lighters  on  silver 
tray.  Two  Manhattan  cocktails  ready  off  l.  u. 
E.  on  tray.    Menu  off  L.  u.  e. 

LIGHTS: 

Orange,  white,  red  and  pink  in  foot  and  ist  border. 

Red  in  border  back  in  dining  room. 

At  rise,  red,  pink  and  orange  foots  and  ist  border 

on — ^the  white  off. 
Curtains  at  back  closed  at  rise. 
Orange  calcium  strikes  through  door  R.  u.  E. 
Open  orange  strikes  library  at  r.  u.  e.  backing. 
Red   calcium   strikes   across   stage   from   fireplace 

R.  U  E. 

Orange  calcium  strikes  across  stage  from  r.  i  e. 
Orange  calcium  strikes  across  stage  from  L.  I  B. 
Chandelier  and  brackets  not  lighted. 


BOUGHT  AND  FOR. 


112 


il 

o 

a: 
o 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 


ACT  I. 


Scene  : — The  scene  is  a  room  in  Robert  Stafford's 
bachelor  apartment.  It  is  furnished  magnifi- 
cently and  in  splendid  taste.  The  pictures, 
tapestries,  bric-a-brac,  etc.,  evidence  the  posses- 
sion of  great  wealth.  The  impression  to  be  con- 
veyed is  that  the  room  is  occupied  by  a  man  of 
discriminating  taste  and  to  whom  money  is  no 
object. 

There  is  an  entrance  r.  I,  another  l.  2,  and  an- 
other L.  I,  which  is  from  the  hall.  Back  c.  are 
curtains  which  are  drawn  later  shoiving  the  din- 
ing room  with  table  set.  The  time  is  about  half 
past  seven  of  a  summer  evening. 
The  curtain  rises  on  an  empty  stage.  There  is 
a  slight  pause,  then  DOOR  BELL  rings,  off  l.  i 
E.  Oku  enters  l.  2.  He  is  Robert  Stafford's 
Japanese  servant.  He  switches  on  chandeliers 
and  brackets,  then  crosses  the  stage  and  exits 
to  hall  as  if  to  admit  visitors. 

Jim.  (Speaking  off  l.  2)  Is  this  Mr.  Stafford's 
apartment  ? 

Oku.  (Off  L.)  Yes,  sir.  Excuse,  please,  and 
come  in!  Excuse,  please!  (Oku  stands  near 
entrance  l.) 

(Virginia  Blaine,  her  sister  Fanny  and  James 

7 


8  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

GiLLEY  enter  L.  2.  Virginia  crosses  fo  s.  c 
Fanny  c,  James  l.  c,  Oku  l.  Virginia  is  a 
sweet,  pretty  girl  of  twenty-two  or  four.  Al- 
though her  attire  is  of  inexpensive  material  she 
is  dressed  in  a  becoming  and  tasteful  manner.) 

(Fanny  Blaine  is  about  two  years  older  than 
Virginia,  and  is  in  speech  and  manner  some' 
what  coarser  than  her  sister.) 

(James  Gilley  is  about  twenty-four  and  is  a  ship' 
ping  clerk  earning  fourteen  dollars  a  week.  He 
is  typical  of  his  class,  but  has  a  great  idea  of 
his  own  ability.) 

Jim.  Tell  Mr.  Stafford  the  people  he  was  expect- 
ing have  come. 

Oku.  Excuse!  But  Mr.  Stafford — he  is  not 
here. 

Jim.  (To  Virginia)  I  told  you  being  late  was 
the  proper  thing. 

Virginia.  {To  Oku)  Isn't  there  some  mis- 
take? 

Oku.  Excuse,  please,  but  there  is  no  mistake. 
Mr.  Stafford,  he  say,  to  me  over  telephone,  he  is 
very  sorry  but  there  is  big  meeting  and  perhaps  he 
not  get  away — for  half  an  hour. 

(They  took  at  each  other.) 

Jim.    Oh !    Half  an  hour ! 

Oku.  He  says  he  is  very  sorry,  but  will  hurry 
quick  as  can.  He  say  for  you  to  wait  till  he  comes 
and  he  tell  me  to  say  many  time,  "  Excuse,  please ! 
Excuse ! " 

Virginia.  I  understand.  We  will  wait.  (Up  to 
table  r.  c.) 

Oku.  (Takes  Jimmie's  hat)  Mr.  Stafford — ^he 
say  to  ask  if  you  will  have  cocktail. 

Jim.    I  will.    (Goes  up) 

Oku.  ( To  Virginia,  crossing  to  her  r.  c.  at  chair 
L.  of  table  R.  c.)    Miss? 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  9 

Virginia.  No,  thank  you.  {To  lower  part  of 
sofa,  R.  c.) 

Oku.    {To  Fanny)    Miss? 

Fanny.  {To  Jim,  a  step  toward  him  l.)  Shall 
I? 

Jim.    Sure. 

Fanny.    {To  Oku)    Yes. 

Oku.    What  kind? 

Jim.    What  do  you  like  ? 

Fanny.    What  kind  do  you? 

Jim.    Martini? 

Fanny.    Yes. 

Jim.    Two  Martinis. 

Oku.  Yes,  miss.  Two  Martini.  Excuse,  please ! 
Excuse !    {He  exits  l.  u.) 

Jim.  {Looking  around  room,  crossing  to  c.)  I 
guess  this  is  bad,  eh  ? 

Virginia.  It's  beautiful!  {To  hack  of  sofa  r., 
looking  about  room) 

Fanny.  {Looking  about  room,  crossing  around 
to  table  L.  c.)  When  this  place  was  being  built  I 
read  in  the  paper  that  Mr.  Stafford  was  to  pay  fif- 
teen thousand  dollars  a  year  for  his  rooms. 

Jim.  (c.)  Fifteen  thousand  a  year,  just  for  his 
rooms?    {To  Virginia,  leaning  on  sofa  r.  c.) 

Fanny.    {In  front  of  table,  l.  c.)    Yes! 

Jim.  Why — that's  nearly  three  hundred  dollars  a 
week! 

Fanny.    Yes. 

Jim.  Three  hundred  dollars — just  for  his  rooms, 
while  I  slave  a  whole  week  from  eight  in  the  morn- 
ing till  six  at  night,  for  a  measly  fourteen  1  I  tell 
you,  there's  something  rotten  in  this  country !    (  Up 

c.) 

Virginia.  Mr.  Stafford  didn't  get  more  than 
fourteen  when  he  was  your  age.    He  was  poor,  too. 

Fanny.  (Crossing  to  Jim,  c.  To  him)  Yes, 
and  when  they  raised  you  from  twelve  at  Christmas, 


10  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

you  thought  you  were  doing  great!     I  remember 
how  chesty  you  were  about  it. 

Jim.  Only  because  I  figured  that  I  might  be 
gettin'  eighteen  pretty  soon  and  then  we  could  get 
married.  Do  we  still  have  to  wait  till  I  get  eighteen, 
Fanny  ? 

Fanny.  We  certainly  do.  A  couple  simply  can't 
live  on  less  than  eighteen.    (  Crossing  to  l.  c.  ) 

Jim.  I  know  it.  That's  what  makes  me  so  sore 
when  I  read  about  millionaires  like  Stafford  having 
private  yachts  that  cost  fifty  thousand  a  year,  having 
boxes  at  the  opera,  paying  a  hundred  thousand  for 
a  picture  and  things  like  that.  They  have  so  much 
money  they  don't  know  what  to  do  with  it,  and  yet 
all  that  stands  between  me  and  happiness  is  four 
dollars  a  week,  aiid  I  can't  get  it! 

Virginia.  Don't  worry,  Jimmie,  your  chance  will 
come,  just  as  Mr.  Stafford's  did. 

Jim.  Fine  chance  I've  got,  third  assistant  ship- 
ping clerk  in  a  wholesale  grocery.  Why,  the 
manager  of  the  department  only  gets  thirty,  and  he's 
been  with  the  firm  tiventy-six  years! 

Fanny.  That's  a  sweet  outlook  for  me,  I  must 
say  !  If  it  takes  a  man  twenty-six  years  to  work  up 
to  thirty,  I  suppose  you'll  be  getting  eighteen  eleven 
years  from  the  third  of  next  January. 

Jim.  (Crosses  too  h.)  I'm  doing  my  best  and  no 
fellow  can  do  more !  That's  what  makes  me  so  sore, 
I  tell  you.  Here  I  am  slaving  away  for  fourteen 
a  week,  and  he  spends  three  hundred  just  for  his 
rooms.  I  wonder  how  many  rooms  he  gets  for 
that? 

Fanny.    I  think  it's  nine  rooms  and  four  baths. 

Jim,  Four  baths!  What  in  God's  name  can  a 
bachelor  do  with  four  baths  ? 

Fanny.  Is  there  any  reason  he  shouldn't  have 
them  if  he  can  pay  for  them  ? 

Jim.  But  what  good  are  they  to  him  ?  No  matter 
how  much  money  he  has,  he  can't  be  in  more  than 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  n 

one  tub  at  a  time.  I  suppose  he  uses  *em  Monday, 
Tuesday — Wednesday — Thursday — Friday — Satur- 
day, and  keeps  the  favorite  for  the  especial  splash  on 
Sunday. 

Virginia.  (Chair  l.  of  table  r.  c,  sits)  Do  you 
realize  that  Mr.  Stafford  has  servants  and  that  he 
has  friends  come  to  stay  with  him  occasionally? 

Jim.    Oh!    I  hadn't  thought  o'  that. 

Fanny.  Well,  take  my  advice  and  do  think — once 
in  a  while.  And  get  rid  of  that  temper,  too.  We're 
invited  to  dinner  with  a  rich  man,  and  I,  for  one, 
want  to  enjoy  it. 

(Oku  enters  l.  u.  e.,  bringing  the  cocktails,  l.  c. 
Fanny  takes  a  cocktail  glass,  so  does  Jim. 
Oku  places  the  tray  on  table  l.  c.  Fanny 
crosses  to  sofa,  sits.) 

Oku.  Cigarettes  and  cigars!  Is  there  anything 
else? 

Jim.    Not  for  me.    (Sits  on  chair  l.  of  table  l.  c.) 

Fanny.  Nor  me.  (Crossing  to  upper  end  of 
sofa  R.  c,  sits) 

Virginia.    No,  thank  you. 

Oku.  Then  excuse,  please,  excuse.  (He  exits 
L.  3) 

(Jim  and  Fanny  sip  their  cocktails.') 

Jim.    Some  cocktail,  eh? 
Fanny.    It's  fine! 

(Jim  and  Fanny  finish  drinking  their  cocktails. 
Fanny  puts  her  glass  on  table  r.  c,  Jim  puts 
his  glass  on  table  l.  c,  selects  a  cigar,  lights  it, 
puffs  away  for  a  short  time  with  evident  satis- 
faction, then  crosses  to  box,  takes  some  more 
and  puts  them  in  his  pocket.) 


ta  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Virginia.  {Crossing  to  table  l.  c,  protesting) 
Jimmiel 

Jim.    Why  not?    He  wouldn't  mind. 

Virginia.  Just  the  same  it  isn't  a  gentlemanly- 
thing  to  do. 

Jim.  If  it  comes  to  that  I  ain't  a  gentleman.  I'm 
a  shipping  clerk. 

Virginia.  Then  of  course  there's  nothing  more 
to  say. 

{Pause.    His  puffs  at  his  cigar.) 

Jim.  How  did  you  come  to  know  Mr.  Stafford, 
Virginia. 

Virginia.  (Standing  near  table  l.  c.)  I  was  at 
my  desk  in  the  hotel  about  three  months  ago  and  he 
came  and  wanted  a  trunk  call — I  think  it  was 
Washington.  There  was  some  trouble  getting  his 
number  and  as  people  will,  we  got  into  conversation 
about  it. 

Fanny.  {Arranging  pillow  on  sofa  and  indicat- 
ing for  Virginia  to  sit  beside  her)  Did  you  know 
who  he  was  ? 

Virginia.  No.  A  girl  who  handles  a  telephone 
desk  at  our  hotel  hasn't  got  much  time  to  bother 
about  anything  else.    {Crosses  to  sofa) 

Jim.    When  did  you  find  out  ? 

Virginia.  {Sits  at  lower  end  of  sofa,  r.  c.)" 
About  a  month  later.  He  got  into  the  habit  of 
'phoning  every  two  or  three  days  to  someone,  and 
finally  he  asked  me  to  go  to  dinner  with  him. 

Jim.     {Rising,  crosses  c.)    And  did  you? 

Virginia.  Certainly  not.  Then  he  used  to  come 
nearly  every  day.  One  time  I — I  think  he  had  been 
—drinking. 

Fanny.  {Taking  Virginia's  hand)  He  was— 
drunk  ? 

Virginia.    Oh,  no!    Not  at  all  I 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  13 

Jim.  (Crossing  to  c.)  Just  lit  up  a  bit  to  show 
that  he's  human. 

Fanny.    Oh! 

Virginia,  Well,  one  of  the  clerks  noticed  how 
often  he  came,  and  told  me  that  he  was  Mr.  Robert 
Stafford.  A  few  days  later  he  came  in  and  asked  me 
if  I  knew  who  he  was,  and  I  said  that  I  did. 

Fanny.  (Sits  closer  to  Virginia)  Then  did  he 
ask  you  to  go  again  ? 

Virginia.    Yes. 

Fanny.    And  you  wouldn't? 

Virginia.    Of  course  not! 

Jim.  Say,  but  that  was  foxy.  {Striking  ashes 
from  cigar) 

Virginia.    What  was? 

Jim.  Making  him  think  that  him  having  money 
made  no  difference.    (Puffs  cigar) 

Virginia.    It  didn't. 

Jim.  (Crossing  to  chair,  L.  of  table,  l.  c.)  Sure 
it  didn't.    That  was  the  way  to  play  it. 

Virginia.  What  do  you  mean  ?  I  wasn't  "  play- 
ing "  anything  or  anybody. 

Fanny.  (Sitting  back  on  sofa)  Then  what 
happened  ? 

Virginia.  (Takes  cocktail  glass  from  table  r.  to 
table  L.  c,  places  it  on  tray)  He  finally  asked  me 
to  dine  with  him  here,  and  to  bring  you  and  Jimmie. 
I  had  told  him  about  your  being  engaged. 

Jim.  (Sits  at  chair  r.  of  table,  r.  c.)  I'm  be- 
ginning to  think  that  he's  on  the  level.  He  might 
even  want  to  marry  you  ? 

Virginia,    Don't  be  absurd. 

Fanny,    But  if  he  did,  would  you  marry  him? 

Jim.    Would  she !    Say,  Fanny,  are  you  crazy? 

Virginia.    I  don't  know  that  I  would. 

Jim.  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  if  any  man,  as  rich 
as  Stafford  is,  was  to  ask  you  on  the  level  to  be  his 
wife,  that  you  wouldn't  jump  at  the  chance  ? 

Virginia.    I've  seen  men  who  are  twice  as  rich  as 


14  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Mr.  Stafford  that  I  wouldn't  marry  if  they  gave  me 
half  their  money  as  a  wedding  present. 

Jim.  And  in  a  way  I  can't  say  that  I  blame  you. 
I've  seen  pictures  of  a  lot  of  these  financiers  and  be- 
lieve me,  they  are  the  rummiest  looking  bunch  I  ever 
set  eyes  on!  But  I  didn't  think  Stafford  was  that 
kind. 

Fanny.  I  thought  he  was  rather  distinguished 
looking.  (Sitting  at  upper  end  of  sofa  leaning  back 
on  cushion) 

Virginia.  He  is — and  besides,  he's  a  gentleman. 
(Leaning  on  chair) 

Jim.  (Rising,  crossing  to  Virginia  l.  c.)  Then 
see  here,  if — Mr.  Stafford's  distinguished  looking 
and  a  gentleman,  as  zvell  as  rich,  will  you  please  tell 
me  what  kind  of  a  man  you  want  ? 

Virginia.    I — I  want  a  man  I  can  love. 

Jim.  Well,  if  you  can't  love  a  man  as  rich  as 
Stafford,  take  my  advice  and  go  see  a  heart  specialist. 

Virginia.  A  girl  can't  love  a  man  just  because 
she  wants  to.  Love  doesn't  go  where  it's  sent,  it 
goes  where  it  pleases. 

Fanny.  Right.  You  don't  suppose  I  loved  a 
fourteen-dollar-a-week  shipping  clerk  because  I 
wanted  to  do  so? 

Jim.    (Turning  to  Fanny)    Eh? 

Fanny.    I  loved  him  just  because  I  had  to. 

Jim.  (Crossing  to  Fanny  back  of  table  R.  C. 
to  sofa,  embracing  her)  Same  here.  The  first  time 
I  ever  set  eyes  on  you,  Fanny,  something  inside  o* 
me  said  "  Me  for  her." 

Fanny.  And  something  here — (She  places  hand 
on  heart)  said  "  Him  for  me !  " 

(Jim  kisses  Fanny.    Sits  on  lower  part  of  sofa 
near  Fanny.) 

Virginia.  (Crosses  to  c.)  Well,  my  heart  never 
said  anything  like  that  to  me  I 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  15 

Jim.  Then  perhaps  it  won't  be  that  way  with 
you.  Perhaps  you'll  learn  to  care  for  him  by  degrees 
like  you  would — say,  for  Mr.  Stafford ! 

Virginia.  Don't  talk  nonsense.  (Crosses  to 
chair  l.  of  table  l.  c.) 

Jim.  He's  interested  in  you  and  if  you  play  your 
cards  right 

Virginia.    I'm  not  going  to  play  any  cards. 

Jim.  (Going  to  table  l.  c.)  Let  me  tell  you  one 
thing — a  chance  like  this  doesn't  come  to  one  girl  in 
a  million. 

Virginia.  Please — (Her  back  to  audience  her 
left  hand  on  back  of  chair  L.  of  table  l.  c.) 

Jim.  (Leaning  on  table  l.  c.)  It's  a  chance  of  a 
lifetime.     It  means  a  lot  to  me  and  Fanny,  too. 

Fanny.    (Sitting  tip  on  sofa)    Yes. 

Virginia.    How  ? 

Jim.  Do  you  think  I  want  to  be  a  shipping  clerk 
all  my  life?  Well,  I  don't.  I've  got  ambitions. 
Yes,  and  I've  got  the  ability.  All  I  need  is  a  chance 
and  I'll  be  one  of  'em,  too. 

Virginia.    One  of  what? 

Jim.  a  captain  of  industry;  a  magnate;  a 
financier ! 

Virginia.    You? 

Jim.    Me! 

Fanny.    He  could  do  it. 

Jim.  (To  Fanny)  You  bet  I  could— (To 
Virginia)  And  if  you  married  Mr.  Stafford,  and 
he  gave  me  a  chance,  which  as  his  brother-in-law  he 
certainly  would,  well,  if  I  ever  got  a  flying  start,  I'd 
show  'em  a  few  things.    I've  got  ability,  I  have. 

Virginia.  Why  don't  you  prove  it  by  getting 
eighteen  dollars  a  week?    (Sits  l.  of  table  l.  c.) 

Jim.  I  thought  you'd  say  something  about  that. 
It  just  shows  how  much  you  know. 

Fanny.    Explain  it  to  her,  Jimmy. 

Jim.  (Looking  at  Fanny)  What's  the  good — ■ 
she  wouldn't  understand!    But  I  will  say  this:    If 


l6  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

I  had  an  opportunity  to  show  some  rich  man  just 
what  I  could  do,  I'd  be  worth  perhaps  a  million 
dollars  in  ten  or  twelve  years,  and  tliat  would  mean 
a  swell  house  for  you  and  me,  and  servants,  and 
automobiles  and  everything  like  that.  I'd  show 
'em! 

Fanny.  {Crossing  to  Jim,  taking  his  hands,  c.) 
Oh,  Jimmy,  wouldn't  it  be  lovely  ?  And  perhaps  we 
could  get  into  real  society  too — perhaps  we  might 
even  meet  the  social  leaders  from  Harlem  and 
Brooklyn,  whose  pictures  are  in  the  papers  every 
Sunday ! 

Jim.  There'd  be  nobody  we  wouldn't  meet.  (l. 
of  Fanny) 

Fanny.  And  fancy — fancy  going  to  the  dress- 
maker's, picking  out  half  a  dozen  dresses,  having 
them  sent  home  without  even  asking  the  price,  and 
letting  them  charge  just  as  much  as  they  like? 
Wouldn't  that  be  heavenly? 

Jim.  She  can  have  all  that  and  more.  (Crosses, 
sits  on  arm  of  lower  end  of  sofa) 

yiRGiNiA.  {Turning  from  them)  It's  perfectly 
ridiculous. 

Fanny.  (Crossing  l.  to  Virginia)  All  I  want 
IS  for  you  to  he  happy. 

Virginia.  I  know  it,  dear.  That's  the  way  you've 
been  always 

Fanny.    You're  different  to  me. 

Virginia.    No,  I'm  not? 

Fanny.  Yes,  you  are.  You'd  do  any  man 
credit. 

Virginia.    Fanny  ? 

Fanny.  But  I'd  hate  to  see  yoa  try  to  keep 
house  on  eighteen  dollars  a  week.  That  means  doing 
your  own  work,  including^  the  cooking,  yes,  and  the 
washing — and  vou  weren't  made  for  that. 

Virginia.  Don't  worry  about  me.  I'll  be  aU 
right. 

Fanny.    I  hope  so. 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  17 

Virginia.    I  will !    (Still  seated  l.  of  table  l.  c.) 

Jim.  And  now  give  me  a  straight  answer  to  a 
plain  question.  If  Mr.  Stafford  does  ask  you  to 
marry  him,  will  you  ?    Come  on,  now,  will  you  ? 

Virginia.    I  won't  talk  about  such  things. 

Jim.  Well,  if  he  does,  and  you  don't  accept  him, 
you'll  be  the  biggest  fool  that  ever  lived.    {Crossing 

to  R.  C.) 

Fanny.  {Crossing  back  of  table  l.  c.)  That's 
just  what  I  say.    Ha !  I  wish  he's  ask  me ! 

Virginia.  {Turning  to  Fanny)  Would  you 
accept  him? 

Fanny.    Would  I?    Oh,  would  I? 

Virginia.    And  throw  Jimmie  over? 

Fanny.  I'd  throw  Jimmy  so  far  and  so  hard 
he'd  think  he  was  struck  by  a  cyclone !  (Fanny  is 
R.  of  table  L.  c.) 

Jim.  And  I  wouldn't  blame  her.  {Rises,  comes 
c.) 

Virginia.    I  can't  understand  you. 

Jim.  Why  should  I  expect  any  girl  to  stick  by 
me  and  fourteen  per,  when  she  can  have  a  place  like 
this?  Look  at  this  furniture,  and  these  rugs,  and 
them  ornaments!  (Crosses  to  mantel  r.,  picks  up  a 
vase,  crosses  to  lower  end  of  sofa,  r.  c.)  I  suppose 
this  is  one  of  them  peach — peach — something,  or 
other,  vases  I've  read  about? 

Virginia.    Peachblow ! 

Jim.  That's  it.  I  suppose  it's  worth  six  or  seven 
thousand  dollars.    (Picks  up  vase) 

Virginia.     (Rising)    Be  careful! 

Jim.  (Startled,  turns  toward  Virginia  ajid  drops 
vase  which  breaks  into  two  parts)  Now  you've 
done  it 

Virginia.    I  have? 

Jim.  Yes,  T  shouldn't  have  dropped  it  if  you 
hadn't  shouted  at  me.  (Jim  picks  up  pieces  and  fits 
them  together) 


l8  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Fanny.  I  think  we'd  better  go  home.  {Starts 
to  button  coat  and  go  l.) 

Virginia.  {Crossing  to  r.  of  table  l.  c.)  Don't 
be  foolish ! 

Jim.  Wait  a  bit !  Wait  a  bit !  {He  fits  the  two 
pieces  together)     How's  that  for  luck? 

Virginia.    Luck? 

Jim.  Great  luck !  {Puts  vase  where  he  found  it) 
We'll  leave  it  just  like  that  and  he'll  think  the  Jap 
done  it. 

Fanny.    Fine! 

Virginia.    We'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind ! 

Jim.     If  we  don't  he'll  think  we've  done  it. 

Virginia.  He's  not  only  got  to  think  it,  he  has 
got  to  know  it ! 

Jim.  But  if  he  does — {The  bell  rings  off  L.) 
I'll  bet  that's  him.     Shall  you  tell  him? 

Virginia.    Certainly,  if  you  don't! 

(Jimmy  goes  to  front  sofa.    Oku  enters.) 

Oku.    Excuse,  please!    Excuse — {Exits  l.) 

Fanny.  I'm  so  nervous.  Do  I  shake  hands  with 
him  when  I'm  introduced,  or  just  say  "  Pleased  to 
meet  you  ?  " 

Virginia.  Behave  as  you  would  with  anyone 
else. 

Fanny.  {Comes  to  L.  of  sofa)  How  do  you 
feel,  Jimmy? 

Jim.     I'm  not  worrying  about  meeting  him,  I'm 
worrj'ing  about  that.     {Indicates  vase,  below  sofa, 
R) 
(Stafford  enters  l.  followed  by  Oku,  who  stands 

up  L.) 

Stafford.  {To  Virginia)  Good-evening! 
{Crosses  c.    Greets  Virginia) 

Virginia.  {Fauny  crosses  to  l,.  c.)  Good-even- 
ing. 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  19 

Stafford.  I'm  so  sorry  I  was  late.  Oku  ex- 
plained, didn't  he? 

Virginia.     Perfectly ! 

Stafford,  Good.  {Indicating  Fanny,  who  has 
crossed  to  l.  c.)    This,  I  presume,  is  your  sister? 

Virginia.  Yes.  Fanny,  let  me  introduce  Mr. 
Stafford. 

Stafford.    Miss  Blaine. 

Fanny.  (Does  not  know  whether  to  offer  hand 
or  not)  Pleased  to  meet  you — (Crosses  behind  to 
chair  r.  of  table  l.  c.  and  sits) 

Virginia.    And  this  is  Mr.  Gilley — Mr.  Stafford. 

Stafford.  (Crosses  to  r.,  greets  him)  How  do 
you  do,  Mr.  Gilley? 

Jim.    How  are  you?     (Goes  back  of  sofa) 

Stafford.  And  now  let  me  apologize  to  all  of 
you  for  keeping  you  waiting.  Believe  me,  it  was 
simply  unavoidable  or  it  wouldn't  have  happened. 

Virginia,  (l.  c.)  We  are  sure  of  that,  aren't 
we?    (Looks  at  Fanny) 

Fanny,     (l.,  nervously)     Mm.     Yes,  yes! 

Stafford.  You  are  certain  you  explained  thor- 
oughly, Oku? 

Oku.  (Crossing  to  up  c.)  Yes.  I  tell  you  have 
big  meeting  and  say  "  very  much  excuse,  please." 

Stafford,  (c.)  That  was  right.  Now  get  me 
the  menu. 

Oku.  (Takes  cocktail  glasses  from  fable  l.  c.) 
Yes !    Excuse,  please.    Excuse.     ( Exits  l.  ) 

Stafford.  Being  a  bachelor,  I  don't  keep  house, 
but  if  I  have  a  little  party  like  this,  I  generally  leave 
the  selection  of  the  dinner  to  the  maitre  d'hotel, 
and  have  it  served  in  my  dining  room  there.  (He 
points  back  c.) 

Virginia.    I  see ! 

Jim.  (Back  of  sofa,  r.  c.)  Nice  little  place  you 
have  here,  Mr.  Stafford. 

Stafford.  Glad  you  like  it.  Have  you  seen  the 
other  room? 


2C  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Jim.    No,  I  was  judging  by  this. 

(Oku  re-enters  l.  u.  e.  with  menu  which  he  hands 
to  Stafford,  who  looks  it  over,  then  takes  out 
a  pencil  and  makes  one  alteration.  Jim  looki 
over  Stafford's  shoulder  and  reads.) 

Stafford.  Oku,  take  the  ladies*  things.  (Oku 
does  so.  Fanny  asks  Virginia  if  she  should  give 
her  hat,  too,  Virginia  nods,  then  sits  r..  and  Fanny 
sits  L.  of  L.  c.  table)  I  think  that  will  do  nicely. 
Have  it  served  when  ready.  (He  hands  menu  to 
Oku  who  goes  tozvard  exit  r.)  Oku — (0«:u  stops) 
Just  a  minute — (To  others)  Excuse  me — {Goes  to 
Oku,  c,  aside  to  him)    I  shan't  dress  to-night. 

Oku.     {To  Stafford)     Anything  else? 

Stafford.     {To  Oku)     No. 

Oku.  {To  Stafford)  Then  excuse,  please. 
Excuse.     {Exits  l.  2) 

Stafford.  {Joins  the  others)  I'm  glad  you  like 
this  room,  Mr.  Gilley 

Jim.  {Up  and  r.  of  sofa)  I  do  for  a  fact.  I 
think  it's  all  right. 

Stafford.  {Down  to  lower  end  of  sofa,  r.  c.) 
My  really  nice  things  are  in  that  room — {Indicates 
r.  I.  Jim  looks  off  r.  i)  but  there  are  some  here 
that  are  rather  good,  I  think.  Did  you  notice  this? 
(Fanny  and  Virginia  rise  and  come  c.  Stafford 
picks  up  a  piece  of  carved  ivory  from  the  table,  r. 
c,  and  shows  it  to  the  others.  Jimmy  crosses  at 
back  between  Fanny  and  Virginia)  It  was  carved 
by  a  Japanese  master  nearly  eighteen  hundred  years 
ago. 

Jim.    Eighteen  hundred ! 

Fanny.    My 

Jim.  {To  l.  of  Fanny  down  r.)  Did  he  get 
much  for  it? 

Stafford.    The  carver? 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  21 

Jim.    Yes. 

Stafford.    Probably  a  few  cents  a  day. 

Jim.    a  few  cents  a  day? 

Stafford.    Yes. 

Jim.  {Crossing  to  l.  behind  table  l.  c,  and  down) 
He  ought  to  have  joined  the  Carver's  Union! 

Stafford.  There  was  none  in  those  days.  Had 
there  been  he  wouldn't  have  joined.  He  was  an 
artist.  He  worked  for  the  joy  of  the  working. 
{Leans  on  back  of  chair) 

Jim.  He  knew  his  own  business,  I  suppose,  but 
I've  never  seen  a  man  who  could  raise  a  family  on 
that. 

(Stafford  puts  the  carving  on  table  r.  c.    Fanny 
laughs  out  loud  and  looks  at  Jim.) 

Stafford.  I  have  one  or  two  peachblows  that 
I  think  are  rather  good.  There  is  one  I  am  partic- 
ularly fond  of.  (Points  to  the  peachblow  and  goes 
to  the  mantel  to  get  it) 

Jim.     It's  coming — it's  coming! 

Fanny.    I'm  that  nervous. 

Stafford.  This  vase  is  said  to  be — (Picks  up 
the  vase  by  the  top  and  simply  lifts  off  the  piece 
that  has  been  broken.  There  is  a  pause)  It's 
broken. 

Jim.    Yes ! 

Fanny.    Why,  so  it  is! 

Stafford,  Oku  must  be  more  careful.  I  never 
knew  him  to  do  a  thing  like  that  before.  (Busies 
himself  putting  the  two  pieces  together) 

Virginia.     (To  Jim)     Tell  him  I 

Jim.  (To  Virginia)  No.  We  can  get  away 
with  it. 

Virginia,     (l.  of  sofa)     Mr.  Stafford. 

Stafford.    Yes  ? 

Virginia.    Oku  didn't  break  it. 

Stafford.    Didn't  he? 


t2  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Virginia.    No. 

Stafford.    Really  ? 

Jim.  (l.  c.)  No!  It  wasn't  Oku.  We — we 
did— it. 

Stafford.  Did  we?  {Looks  from  one  to  the 
other.    His  glance  finally  rests  on  Fanny  who  is  c.) 

Fanny.  Not  me !  Them !  {Indicates  Virginia 
ind  Jim) 

Stafford,    It  doesn't  matter  in  the  least. 

Jim.  (l.)  I  was  looking  at  it.  Virginia  spoke 
to  me  and  I  dropped  it.    Of  course  I'll  pay  for  it. 

Stafford.  Please  don't  give  it  another  thought, 
any  of  you. 

Virginia.    I  can't  tell  you  how  sorry  I  am, 

Stafford.  {Crossing  down  to  lower  end  of  sofa) 
The  only  thing  about  it  that  I  could  possibly  regret 
is  the  fact  that  it  might  throw  a  little  cloud  over 
what  I  hope  will  be  a  very  pleasant  evening.  So,  if 
you  want  to  be  nice  to  me  promise  me  you  won't 
even  think  of  it  again.  Is  it  a  promise?  {To 
Virginia,  l.  of  sofa) 

Virginia.    I'll  do  my  best. 

Stafford.  Thank  you.  {To  Fanny,  c.)  And 
you? 

Fanny.  Of  course  it's  none  of  my  affair — - 
but 

Stafford.     Then  it  can't  concern  you. 

Fanny.    No.    {Crosses  to  sofa) 

Stafford.  Good!  {Crosses  l.  c,  to  Jim)  Mr. 
Gilley? 

Jim.    I  feel  as  though  I  ought  to  pay  for  it. 

Stafford.    Oh,  no,  no,  no. 

Jim.  Yes,  that's  the  way  I  feel,  but  if  you  in- 
sist  

Stafford.    And  I  certainly  do. 

Jim.  Then  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  let  the  mat- 
ter drop. 

Stafford.  {Crosses  to  Jim)  Then  it  is  settled. 
Good.     (Jim  wipes  face  and  hands  with  handker- 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  23 

chief.  To  Virginia)  I  think  you  told  me  that  your 
sister  and  Mr.  Gilley  are  engaged?  {Motions 
Virginia  to  sit) 

Virginia.    Yes. 

Stafford.  (Coming  to  Fanny  and  Jim,  stand- 
ing between  them)  Congratulations.  I  hope  you'll 
both  be  very,  very  happy. 

(Virginia  crosses  to  sofa,  r.  c,  sits  on  up  stage  end 
of  it.) 

Fanny.  Thank  you.  {Sits  side  of  Virginia  on 
loiver  end  of  sofa) 

Jim.    I  think  we  will.     (l.  c.) 

Stafford,  May  I  ask  when  the  wedding  takes 
place  ? 

Jim,  That  depends  on  how — a — a  business  ven- 
ture of  mine  turns  out. 

Stafford.  I  see.  What  business  are  you  in,  Mr. 
Gilley? 

Jim.    I'm  a  shipping  clerk. 

Stafford,  (c.)  Then  you  are  not  in  business 
for  yourself? 

Jim.  No,  that  is,  not  now.  Though  I  hope  to  be 
some  day.    You  see,  Mr.  Stafford,  I  have  ambitions. 

Stafford.  {Crossing  to  chair  r.  of  table  l.  c, 
sits)  Every  young  man  should  have.  {Motions 
Jim  to  sit  l.  of  table,  l.,  crosses  back  of  table) 

Jim.  I  want  to  do  something  big.  I  have  the 
ability.  {Crossing  to  r.  of  table  L.  c.)  All  I  need 
is  the  chance  to  prove  it. 

Stafford.  In  what  direction  do  you  think  your 
talents  lie,  Mr,  Gilley? 

Jim.  Finance !  Organization !  I've  got  ideas, 
too !  For  instance,  Mr.  Stafford,  did  you  ever  stop 
to  think  of  the  money  there  would  be  in  a  Plumber's 
Trust  ? 

Stafford.    No,  I  must  confess  I  never  did, 

Jim.    I  have.    I've  got  lots  of  other  good  ideas. 


94  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

too,  but  I  suppose  I'll  never  be  able  to  work  *em  out 
What  chance  has  a  shipping  clerk  got  ? 

Stafford.  {Sitting  in  chair  l.  of  table,  r.  c) 
Mr.  Gilley,  the  business  world  is  actually  hunting 
to-day  for  men  big  enough  to  hold  big  positions.  I 
don't  mean  the  five  thousand  dollar  men.  There  is 
a  better  chance  now  for  the  really  big  man  than 
there  ever  was. 

Jim.  (Leaning  against  table  L.  c.)  But  how  is  a 
fellow  going  to  prove  he's  a  big  man? 

Stafford.  By  doing  whatever  work  he  is  en- 
gaged in  in  a  big  way.  The  man  who  says  to  him- 
self, "  I'm  too  good  for  this  job,"  but  only  says  it, 
will  probably  have  it  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  but  the 
man  who  says  "  I'll  show  my  boss  that  I'm  too  good 
for  it "  and  does  his  work  in  a  way  that  does  show 
him,  his  feet  are  on  the  road  that  leads  to  the  City 
of  Big  Things ! 

Virginia.    The  City  of  Big  Things? 

Stafford.  But  we  didn't  come  here  to  talk  of 
business  and  thinks  like  that.  (Rises,  crosses  back 
of  table  to  c,  to  Virginia)  Have  you  read  any  of 
the  new  books,  Miss  Blaine? 

Virginia.    I'm  afraid  not. 

Fanny.  Virgie  hasn't  had  much  time  to  read 
lately. 

Stafford.    Busy. 

Fanny.  Well,  weVe  had  a  lot  of  sewing  to  do, 
and  three  times  in  the  last  two  weeks  she's  taken 
me  to  the  art  galleries  to  look  at  the  pictures. 

Stafford.    Really? 

Jim.  (l.  c.)  One  time  they  took  me.  Some  of 
the  pictures  were  great,  but  I  couldn't  stand  for 
those  milk  chocolate  Dutch  women  with  the 
Mellen's  food  babies.  I'll  take  pictures  with  some- 
thing doing  in  them  for  mine — like  battles  and  sea 
pictures. 

Stafford.  If  you  are  fond  of  paintings  of  battle 
scenes,  I  have  two  Vertebogius  I  think  rather  good. 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  «5 

(He  starts  to  r.  i.  Jim  looks  about  as  if  to  see 
them)    They  are  in  that  room.     (^Indicates  r.  i) 

Jim.    Can  I  see  them? 

Stafford.  Certainly.  {Crossing  to  door  r.  i  e., 
opens.  Fanny  fixing  sofa  pillow  to  remain  longer. 
To  Fanny)  There's  a  collection  of  fans  that  I 
think  will  interest  you. 

Fanny.    Fans? 

Stafford.    Yes.    {Nods,  meaning  Virginia) 

Fanny.  I  am  sure  they  will.  Will  you  excuse 
me  ?    {Rises) 

Stafford,    Yes  indeed!    {Goes  up  a  few  steps) 

Fanny.     Coming  Jimmy?     {Bus.) 

Jim.    Surest  thing  you  know! 

(Fanny  and  Jim  exeunt  r.  l) 

Stafford.  {Goes  to  exit  r.  i  and  speaks  to 
Fanny  and  Jim  who  are  off)  The  books  and  the 
engravings  might  interest  you,  too.  You  needn't 
hurry.  Oku  will  let  you  know  when  dinner  is 
served. 

Fanny.    (0#r.  i)    All  right. 

Stafford.  {Closes  the  door,  crosses  up  quickly 
around  table  r.  c.  and  stands  R.  looking  at  Virginia. 
Smiling)    Well,  Miss  Blaine? 

Virginia.  {Smiling  back  at  Stafford)  Well, 
Mr.  Stafford? 

Stafford.  Any  trouble  with  long  distance  since 
I  saw  you? 

Virginia.    Not  more  than  usual. 

Stafford.    Not  even  with  Washington? 

Virginia.    No. 

Stafford.  {Taking  a  step  nearer  Virginia) 
We  had  a  hard  struggle  the  first  time  we  tried  it, 
hadn't  we  ? 

Virginia.    Rather ! 

Stafford.    You  were  very  patient  about  it. 


26  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Virginia.  I  couldn't  do  the  work  if  I  wasn't 
patient. 

Stafford.  Yours  wasn't  the  usual  external,  duty- 
patience,  yours  was  the  real  patience  that  comes 
from  within.    You  know  what  I  mean. 

Virginia.  Yes.  My  mother  was  the  best  exam- 
ple of  that  kind  of  patience  I  have  ever  known.  She 
radiated  it. 

Stafford.  (Sits  on  stool  l.  of  sofa)  How  long 
has  she  been — gone? 

Virginia.  Six  years.  My  father  was  a  lawyer, 
but  he  didn't  have  a  large  practice,  and  when  he  died 
he  left  nothing  but  his  insurance.  That  was  only 
two  thousand  dollars,  and  Mother,  with  us  two  girls 
to  look  after,  had  to  do  something  practical  and  so 
she  opened  a  small  millinery  store. 

Stafford.    The  right  spirit. 

Virginia.  It  must  have  been  a  grim  hard  strug- 
gle, particularly  at  first.  When  Fanny  left  school 
though,  and  was  able  to  help  her,  it  wasn't  quite  so 
trying.    You  see,  Fanny  didn't  care  for  school. 

Stafford.    But  you  did  ? 

Virginia.  Yes,  I  loved  it !  Mother  knew  it  and 
insisted  that  I  should  go  through  High  School.  I 
was  delighted,  for  I  didn't  realize  then  what  strug- 
gles and  sacrifices  it  meant  for  her,  and  here  is  the 
irony — the  tragedy — of  it  all.  I  was  selected  as  the 
class  orator  at  our  graduating  exercises  and  mother 
was  very  happy  over  it.  She  looked  forward  to  it 
as  one  of  the  days  of  her  life,  and  started  to  make 
my  graduating  dress — but  never  finished  it !  (  Very 
softly)     Poor  mother ! 

Stafford.    You  have  her  memory. 

Virginia.  And  it  is  more  to  me  than  anything 
in  the  world — except  Fanny. 

Stafford.    You  love  your  sister,  I  know. 

Virginia.  Of  course  I  do.  She  took  mother's 
place — as  much  as  anyone  could — and,  except  on 
our  vacations,  we  have  never  beea  seoarated. 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  27 

Stafford.  (Up  to  chair  l.  of  table,  r.  c,  leans 
arms  over  the  back)    You  soon  will  be  now  though. 

Virginia.     How  ? 

Stafford.     Mr.  Gilley!    They're  to  be  married. 

Virginia.  I  shan't  mind  that  kind  of  separation 
— if  she's  happy. 

Stafford.  There's  the  trouble  with  matrimony — 
that  great,  big  little  word—"  if  !  " 

Virginia.  I  feel  sure  they'll  be  happy.  Their's 
is  a  marriage  for  love. 

Stafford.  Do  you  believe  in  love?  {Comes  c. 
in  front  of  Virginia,  sits  on  sofa,  moves  down  to 
face) 

Virginia.    Of  course — real  love. 

Stafford.    What  do  you  call  real  love? 

Virginia.  Why — why  don't  you  think  there  is 
such  a  thing  as  r^al  love? 

Stafford.  (Toying  with  magnifying  glass) 
Certainly.  But  I  don't  think  that  it's  what  the  senti- 
mental schoolgirl  feels  for  the  college  football 
player.  And  as  for  love  at  first  sight,  I  consider 
that  simply  absurd.  To  my  way  of  thinking,  love 
isn't  spontaneous  combustion,  it's  a  slow,  steady 
growth  and  the  soil  in  which  it  grows  best  is — re- 
spect. 

Virginia.    Perhaps  you  are  right. 

Stafford.     I  know  that  I  am. 

Virginia.  (Rising)  And  now  shall  we  join 
Fanny  and  Mr.  Gilley  ?  I'm  interested  in  books  and 
pictures,  too. 

Stafford.  Not  yet,  please,  please.  I  have  so 
many  things  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about. 

Virginia.    What,  for  instance? 

Stafford.    Among  them  is — myself. 

Virginia.  I  know  a  great  deal  about  yourself 
already.  The  newspapers  and  magazines  have  been 
full  of  the  history  of  the  man  who,  starting  with 
nothing,  has  become  a  power  in  the  railroad  and 
financial  world.    It  only  needed  one  thing  to  make 


28  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

it  fit  for  the  model  young  man's  story  book — it 
neglected  to  say — "our  hero  neither  drinks  nor 
smokes." 

Stafford.    It  couldn't — I  do  both! 

Virginia.  {Crosses  to  l.  of  table  and  sits)  An- 
other public  idol  shattered. 

Stafford.    Behave  now. 

Virginia.    In  the  last  interview 

Stafford.  {To  c.)  Probably  faked.  {Leans 
over  table) 

Virginia.  You  neglected  to  say,  "  making  my 
first  thousand  dollars  was  the  hardest  task  of  all." 

Stafford.  That  was  about  the  easiest.  I  got 
hold  of  some  information  about  a  certain  stock, 
borrowed  a  hundred  from  a  friend,  put  it  up  as 
margin  in  a  bucket  shop,  and  by  pressing  my  luck 
made  and  got  my  first  thousand  without  any  trouble 
whatever. 

Virginia.  And  that  started  you,  I  suppose,  on 
the  way  to  the  City  of  Big  Things.  I  like  that 
phrase — "  The  City  of  Big  Things." 

Stafford.  It's  a  great  city,  it's  the  only  one 
worth  living  in. 

Virginia.  And  you  are  one  of  the  most  prom- 
inent inhabitants. 

Stafford.  I  wouldn't  go  so  far  as  to  say  that. 
Still,  everyone  in  the  city  knows  I'm  living  there. 
{Sits  in  chair  r.  of  table  l.  c.) 

Virginia.  I  wonder  how  it  must  feel  to  be  a 
man — and  successful? 

Stafford.  It  feels  great.  To  know  that  you've 
done  something!  To  know  that  you've  made  a 
name  and  a  place  for  yourself;  to  realize  that  no 
one  dare  try  to  walk  over  you !  To  feel  that  your 
bitterest  enemy  respects  you  and  your  rights  be- 
cause, if  he  doesn't,  it  means  a  fight  to  a  finish — 
that  makes  a  man  feel  good — here.  {Indicates  his 
heart) 

Virginia.    I  should  think  it  would. 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  29 

Stafford.  And  then  success  means  money,  and 
money  means  power,  and  luxury  and  every  comfort 
that  the  world  can  give.  If  a  successful  man  wishes 
to  travel  by  land  he  has  his  private  car,  if  he  wishes 
to  travel  by  sea  he  has  his  own  yacht,  and  so  it  goes, 

Virginia.  It  must  be  wonderful  to  be  like  you 
and  have  everything  that  you  could  wish  for. 

Stafford.  {Laughs)  1  didn't  say  that  I  had 
everything  that  I  could  wish  for. 

Virginia.    Well,  haven't  you? 

Stafford.    No,  I  haven't  a  home.    (Rises) 

Virginia.  {Indicating  the  room)  Why,  this  is 
beautiful! 

Stafford.  This — ^this  isn't  a  home.  It's  merely 
the  place  in  which  I  live, 

Virginia.    Oh  I 

Stafford.  (In  back  of  table,  l.  c.)  Furniture, 
pictures,  tapestries,  books — they  don't  make  a  home. 
Only  a  woman  can  do  that.  Will  you  make  a  home 
for  mc?    Will  you  be — ^my  wife? 

Virginia.    (Rises)    Your  wife? 

Stafford.    Yes. 

Virginia.    Do  you — ^love  me? 

Stafford.    You  wish  for  the  truth? 

Virginia.    Yes. 

Stafford.  I  feel  always  that  I  want  to  be  near 
you,  to  be  tender  to  you,  to  look  after  and  guard 
you,  and  shield  you  from  all  trouble  and  harm — ^if 
that  is  love,  then  I  love  you. 

Virginia.    ^>  d  if  I  don't  consider  that — love? 

Svafforl.  Then  I  am  afraid  that  I  shall  never 
love  anyone.  You  see,  life  with  me  has  been  one 
long  fig  t.  As  a  boy,  I  fought  for  bread,  as  a  youth 
I  fough  for  an  ed  ■'.cation,  as  n  man  I  fought  for 
success.  Anythin^  I  have  I  have  wrestea  from  the 
world,  SlW^  wh  le  getli  „  it,  I  have  been  too  bi'sy  for 
romance  aiid  io.e  metking.  But  I  think  this  will 
prove  how  1  /egard  you.  You  are  the  only  woman 
I  have  ever  asked  to  marry  me.   Will  your 


30  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Virginia.  (Looking  up  at  him)  You  don't 
trouble  to  ask  if  I  love  you? 

Stafford.    I  don't  expect  you  to — yet. 

Virginia.    What  ? 

Stafford.    But  I  think  you  like  me — don't  you? 

Virginia.    Do  you  wish  for  the  truth  ? 

Stafford.    Yes. 

Virginia.  I  do  like  you — more  than  like  you — 
but  I  don't  know  that  I  love  you. 

Stafford.    Do  you  love  any  other  man? 

Virginia.    No. 

Stafford.  Then  marry  me  and  I'll  make  you  love 
me. 

Virginia.    You'll — make  me 

Stafford.  I'll  make  you!  And  when  once  I 
have  your  love  I'll  hold  it  against  the  world!  Be 
my  wife.  I'll  be  a  loyal  and  faithful  husband,  you 
shan't  have  a  single  care,  and  you  shall  have  every 
luxury  that  money  can  buy. 

Virginia.    I  don't  know  what  to  say. 

Stafford.    Say  yes. 

Oku.    Excuse,  please!    Dinner  is  served. 

Stafford.  Tell  Miss  Blaine  and  Mr.  Gilley. 
(Oku  exits  r.  i )    Please  say,  "  yes." 

Virginia.    Not  now.     (Crosses  r.) 

Stafford.     Please — Virginia. 

Virginia.    I  want  time  to  think. 

Fanny.  (Off)  They  were  just  lovely,  weren't 
they,  Jimmy? 

Jim.    (Off)    Fine! 

{Waiter  parts  curtains  at  arch  c.  by  cord  from  r. 
Fanny  and  Jim  enter  r.  i  followed  by  Oku, 
who  opens  doors  c,  showing  dining  room  with 
table  set.  Chandelier  lighted  over  table.  Red 
border  on,  over  dining-room.  Orange  open  box 
lights  r.  and  l.,  strike  dining-table.  Orange 
calcium  spot  raised  high  on  rod  to  strike  on 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  3t 

Virginia  who  sits  at  r.     The  light  strikes 
Virginia's  face  from  l.) 

Stafford.  Glad  you  like  them.  (Goes  to  Vir- 
ginia who  is  lost  in  thought;  stops  and  speaks 
lightly)    This  way,  please. 

(Virginia  rises,  looks  at  Stafford,  smiling.  Turns 
and  sees  the  dining-room  door  open.  Gives  an 
exclamation  of  delight  at  its  beauty.  All  enter 
dining-room  and  are  seated.  Stafford  faces 
the  audience.  Virginia  at  r.  end  of  table, 
Fanny  l.  end,  Jim  with  his  back  to  audience.) 

(To  Waiter)    Louis,  serve  the  wine. 

(Oku  crosses  to  door  l.  u.  e.  arid  turns  light  switch. 
White  foots  and  border  down  Y2,  Orange  and 
red  remain.  All  lights  at  back  in  dining-room 
remain  on  and  lights  at  entrances  all  on.  Oku 
stands  at  door  l.  u.  e.  Waiter  fills  Virginia's 
glass.) 

Before  we  begin  dinner  I  want  to  propose  a  toast. 
Fanny  and  Jim.    A  toast  ? 

(Waiter  fills  Stafford's  glass.) 

Stafford.  I  have  the  honor  of  proposing  the 
happiness  of  Virginia — my  future  bride. 

(Waiter  fills  Fanny's  glass.) 

Jim.    Fine ! 

Fanny.    You're  going  to  be  married? 

(Waiter  fills  Jim's  glass.) 

Virginia.    I  haven't  promised. 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 


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BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  33 

{Waiter  stands  up  l.) 

Stafford.     No,   dear,  but  you  will!     To  the 
future  Airs.  Stafford. 

(Bks.  Stafford,  Jim  and  Fanny,  looking  at  Vir- 
ginia with  raised  glasses.) 

CURTAIN. 

(White  foots  and  ist  border  on  for  all  calls.) 


ACT  II. 


Scene  : — The  scene  is  the  boudoir  of  Virginia,  now 
Mrs.  Stafford.  It  is  furnished  and  adorned 
in  a  way  which  shows  the  ultimate  of  luxury. 
There  is  a  door  r.  3,  zvhich  leads  to  Virginia's 
bedroom;  another  door  L.  3,  which  leads  to 
Stafford's  dressing-room,  and  one  l.  i  which 
is  the  entrance  from  the  hall.  There  are  two 
'phones  in  the  room,  one  for  general  use  and 
one  for  use  in  the  house  only. 
Curtain  rises  on  an  empty  stage. 
Time: — About  12  o'clock  on  a  December  night 
some  tzvo  years  later  than  Act  I. 
Virginia  enters  l.  i  dressed  as  if  she  had  just 
returned  from  the  opera.  She  is  gowned 
magnificently  and  wears  wonderful  jewels. 
She  switches  on  lights  then  rings  bell  L.  3  and 
goes  to  sofa  r.  c. 

White  lights  up  in  foot  in  border  when  Virginia 
switches  on  lights. 

(Josephine  enters  r.  3.    She  is  Virginia's  maid.) 

Josephine.     Oh,  Madame — vouderez  vous  bien 


34  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  ' 

me  pardonne.  Mais  je  pensais  que  Madame  rentre- 
rait  un  peu  plus  tard. 

Virginia.    Ca  ne  fait  rien. 

Josephine.  ( Takes  Virginia's  cloak,  opera  hag, 
etc.)  Que  Madame  me  pardonne.  Mais  elle  est 
vraiement  ravissante  ce  soir. 

Virginia.  Je  suis  bien  contents.  {Sits  on  sofa 
R.) 

Josephine.    O,  cui  Madame  est  ravisante. 

Virginia.    Apportez  moi  mes  pantouffles. 

Josephine.  Oui  Madame.  (Josephine  takes  off 
Virginia's  opera  slippers,  then  gets  her  bedroom 
slippers  from  u.  R.,  at  dressing-table,  brings  them 
and  puts  them  on) 

Virginia.    Has  Mr.  Stafford  returned? 

Josephine.    No,  Madame. 

Virginia.    Nor  'phoned? 

Josephine.  No,  Madame,  I  thought  he  went  to 
the  opera  with  you  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gilley, 
Madame. 

Virginia.  He  couldn't  stay.  He  had  some  busi- 
ness to  attend  to.  You  are  quite  sure  he  hasn't 
*phoned  ? 

Josephine.  No  message  has  come  here,  Madame. 
I  will  find  if  they  have  heard  from  Mr.  Stafford 
downstairs,  Madame.  {Goes  to  'phone  on  wall  l. 
IE.)  Hello!  Who  is  this?  Mrs.  Stafford  wants 
to  know  if  any  word  has  come  from  Mr.  Stafford 
since  he  went  away !  You  are  quite  sure  ?  Thank 
you.    {Replaces  'phone)    No,  Madame. 

Virginia.  Very  well.  {Rises)  I'll  get  into 
something  loose.     {Up  c.) 

Josephine.  Yes,  Madame.  {Takes  off  Vir- 
ginia's jewels  and  puts  them  away,  at  dressing- 
table  up  R.,  then  unhooks  her  dress) 

Virginia.  The  bath  was  a  little  cold  this  morn- 
ing, Josephine. 

Josephine.  {Crossing  up  c.)  I  am  very  sorry, 
Madame,  I  will  see  that  it  does  not  happen  again. 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  35 

Virginia.     I'm  not  complaining,  you  know. 

Josephine.  {Unhooking  Virginia's  dress)  No, 
Madame!  You  are  very  good  and  kind  to  me, 
Madame. 

Virginia.  There's  no  reason  why  I  shouldn't 
be. 

Josephine.     Thank  you,  Madame. 

(Fanny  enters  l.  i  ;  she  is  in  evening  dress,  but 
is  not  so  beautifully  attired  as  Virginia.) 

Fanny,     The  baby's  all  right.     She's  sleeping 
just  as  sound  as  can  be. 
Virginia.    Good.    Excuse  me  a  minute. 

(Virginia  and  Josephine  take  cloak  from  sofa  r. 
and  exeunt  r.  3.) 

Fanny.  {Talking  to  Virginia  who  is  off  r.  3) 
She's  a  perfect  darling. 

Virginia.     {Off  R.  3)     She  is  certainly  a  dear. 

Fanny.  {As  before)  Did  you  ever  know  a 
child  that  behaved  so  well?     {Bus.  with  glass) 

Virginia.  {As  before)  Never.  She  hasn't  been 
the  slightest  trouble  since  you've  been  here — has 
she? 

Fanny.  {Crossing  down  to  chair  L.  of  table  l. 
c.  As  before)  No!  And  she's  always  that  way. 
It's  such  a  comfort  to  a  mother  to  know  her  child 
has  a  sweet  disposition.  I  wonder  whether  she  gets 
it  from  me  or  from  Jimmy — James,  I  mean. 

Virginia.  {As  before)  Jimmy's  coming  in  to 
say  good-night,  isn't  he? 

Fanny,  {Turning  toward  door  r.  3)  You  bet! 
I  mean — certainly  he  is. 

Virginia.    That's  right. 

Fanny.  It  was  awfully  good  of  you  to  let  us 
spend  the  day  here  and  take  us  to  the  opera,  and 
let  us  all  spend  the  night  here — — 


36  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Virginia.    Don't  be  foolish. 

Fanny.  It  was,  just  the  same.  {Crossing  to 
fireplace  r.)  Shall  we  see  you  in  the  morning 
before  we  go? 

Virginia.    Of  course. 

Fanny.  {Crossing  to  fireplace  r.)  I  thought 
perhaps  you'd  have  breakfast  in  bed. 

Virginia.  And  let  you  and  the  baby  go  without 
saying  good-bye  ?    No,  indeed. 

Fanny.  {Looking  off  r.)  That's  right,  make 
yourself  comfortable.  I  could  let  an  inch  or  so 
out  of  mine  without  doing  any  violent  harm.  Oh, 
I  just  love  to  be  dressed — d^collett^!  I  got  it 
right  that  time,  didn't  I,  Josephine? 

Josephine.    Oui,  Madame. 

Fanny.    Fine !     And  say  Virgle — — 

Virginia.    Yes  ? 

Fanny.  I  looked  them  all  over,  and  you  take  it 
from  me,  nobody  had  anything  on  us  to-night. 

Virginia.    You  looked  very  well. 

Fanny.  You  weren't  ashamed  of  your  sister, 
were  you? 

Virginia.    Ashamed?    I  should  say  not. 

Fanny.  Of  course  with  my  figure  I  can  wear 
anything!  But  when  it  comes  to  evening  dress,  I 
flatter  myself  that  I'm  in  the  fron*-  of  the  proces- 
sion and  VERY  NEAR  THE  BANDt    (.Crossing 

to  L.) 

Virginia.    It  certainly  is  becoming  to  you. 

Fanny.  You  were  a  dream!  Did  you  see  the 
look  you  got  from  the  young  woman  in  the  next 
box — the  one  with  the  pushed-in  face? 

Virginia.    No. 

Fanny.    I  did.    Prussic  acid  and  vinegar. 

Virginia.    Oh,  Fanny  I 

Fanny.  I  saw  it.  One  drink  would  have  meant 
death  mingled  with  convulsions.  {At  chair  r.  of 
table  L.  c.) 

yiRGiNiA.     You  imagined   it.      (Virginia   re^ 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  37 

enters  wearing  a  negligee  with  flozving  sleeves, 
crossing  to  dressing  table  up  c.) 

Fanny.  Not  much !  I  saw  it,  I  tell  you ;  so  did 
Jimmie!    I  mean — James. 

Virginia.    Where  is  Jimmie? 

Fanny.    Smoking  a  cigar  and  admiring  the  baby. 

Virginia.  Do  you  know  what  I'm  going  to  do 
for  her? 

Fanny.    No. 

Virginia.  She'll  never  have  to  fight  and  struggle 
as  you  and  mother  did.  I'm  going  to  buy  her  clothes 
for  her,  see  after  her  education,  get  a  governess 
when  the  time  comes,  send  her  through  college  if 
she  wants  to  go ;  see  that  she  learns  how  to  ride 
and  drive;  in  fact,  I'm  going  to  do  everything  for 
her  that  money  and  love  can. 

Fanny.  You're  a  thoroughbred,  Virgie!  But 
what  would  your  husband  say  ? 

Virginia.  Robert  would  help  me.  He's  as  fond 
of  her  as  I  am.  And  you  know  the  size  of  his 
heart. 

Fanny.  (Crosses  down  to  l.  side  of  sofa  r.) 
I  should  think  so.  See  what  he's  done  for  James 
and  me  already. 

(Josephine  enters.) 

Josephine.    Anything  else,  Madame  ? 

Virginia.  No,  Josephine.  You  needn't  wait  for 
me. 

Josephine.  Thank  you,  Madame.  Shall  I  call 
you  in  the  morning,  Madame? 

Virginia.    No.    I'll  ring  when  I  want  you. 

Josephine.  (Crossing  tozvards  door  l.  i  e.) 
Yes,  Madame.  Quant  su  bain  je  verrai  a  ce  que 
cela  ne  ce  representrera  plus. 

Virginia.    Tres  bien,  Josephine. 

Josephine.  Je  vous  remercie.  Bonne  nuit, 
Madame.    (Exits  l.  i,  closes  door) 


38  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Fanny.  (Imitating  Josephine)  "Anything 
else,  Madame  ?  "  "  No,  Josephine.  You  needn't 
wait  for  me."  "  Shall  I  call  you  in  the  morning, 
Madame?"  "No,  I'll  ring  when  I  want  you." 
Gee!  It's  just  like  you  read  about  in  the  story- 
books.   (Crossing  to  table  l.  c.) 

Virginia.  {At  dressing-table  and  arranges  her 
hair)    What? 

Fanny.    You  !    And  the  way  you  speak  French. 

Virginia.  I've  studied  hard  enough  in  the  last 
year  and  a  half. 

Fanny.    And  your  music. 

Virginia.    That  too.    Chocolate 

Fanny,  No,  thanks.  And  your  German — (Picks 
up  a  book  from  table)  And  your  books  on  litera- 
ture and  art.  (Puts  book  dozvn)  And  this — (/n- 
dicates  room)  And  your  autos — and  your  yacht 
— and  your  box  at  the  opera — and  everything  that 
money  can  buy,  while  two  years  ago  you  were  a 
telephone  operator  in  a  hotel. 

Virginia.  (On  couch)  It  is  wonderful,  isn't 
it? 

Fanny.  Wonderful!  It  makes  Laura  Jean 
Libbey  look  like  a  piker. 

Virginia.    Fanny! 

Fanny.    What? 

Virginia.     Slang ! 

Fanny.  Oh,  I  just  have  to  blow  off  steam  once  in 
a  while !  And  maybe  I'm  not  in  it,  too.  Two  years 
ago  I  used  to  work  in  a  millinery  store.  ( With  ap- 
propriate business)  Enter  the  rich  Mrs.  Chudding- 
ton.  She's  fifty  if  she's  a  day,  weight  a  hundred 
and  ninety — and  has  a — a  rippling  chin.  She  sees 
a  hat  that  would  suit  a  girl  just  out  of  school  and 
tries  it  on.  I  look  at  her  and  say,  "  Oh,  Mrs.  Chud- 
dington,  isn't  that  lovely !  "  Of  course  I  know  it's 
awful,  but  I  have  to  say  it  because  it's  business.  I 
point  to  the  customer  and  Marie  says,  "  Oh,  Mrs. 
Chuddington,   isn't   that   exquisite ! "     Then   Mrs^^ 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  39 

Chuddington  puts  on  the  hat,  leaves  the  store  look- 
ing a  perfect  fright.  Marie  looks  at  Fanny ;  Fanny 
looks  at  Marie,  and  though  we  don't  say  a  word  we 
think — oh,  how  we  do  think! 

Virginia.     (Laughs)     They  try  it  with  me. 

Fanny.  But  how  is  it  now?  Now  I  am  Mrs. 
James  Gilley,  sister  of  the  rich  Mrs.  Robert  Staf- 
ford, with  whom  I  have  just  spent  an  evening  at 
the  opera,  and  who  I  am  now  visiting  in  her 
"  boudoir ! "  Sometimes  I  don't  believe  it's  real, 
and  I  find  myself  getting  ready  to  wake  up  just 
in  time  to  hear  the  alarm  clock  go  off.  (Crosses 
down-stage) 

Virginia.    It  is  real,  Fanny,  and — you  are  happy  ? 

Fanny.  (Sits  by  Virginia)  Of  course  I  am. 
Why  shouldn't  I  be  ?  Haven't  I  got  James  and  the 
baby  and  a  pretty  flat  in  One  Hundred  and  Fortieth 
Street?  And  a  maid  to  do  the  work,  and  isn't 
James  getting  a  hundred  a  week  from  Mr.  Staf- 
ford ?    Well,  I  should  say  I  am  happy. 

Virginia.    I'm  so  glad ! 

Fanny.    You're  happy,  too,  aren't  you? 

Virginia.    Yes. 

Fanny.  If  you're  not,  I  don't  know  what  you 
want.  Nobody  could  be  a  better  husband  than 
Robert.  He's  just  the  kindest,  nicest  man  ;  a  woman 
simply  couldn't  help  loving  him.  (Slight  pause) 
You  do  love  him,  don't  you  ? 

Virginia.  Yes — most  of  the  time.  In  fact — 
nearly  all  of  the  time. 

Fanny.  "  Most  of  the  time — nearly  all  of  the 
time."  What  do  you  think  love  is — off  again,  on 
again,  come  again,  Finnegan !  You  either  love  a  man 
or  you  don't ;  at  least  that's  the  way  I  understand  it. 

Virginia.  The  trouble  is  that  you  don't  under- 
stand— this. 

Fanny.  (Sympathetically)  What  is  it,  dear? 
Tell  me.     (Sits  on  stool) 

Virginia.    Did  Jimmie  ever  come  home — drunk  ? 


40  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Fanny.  I  should  like  to  see  him  try  it — just 
once.    I  imagine  once  would  be  enough. 

Virginia.    Then  you  can't  understand  it. 

Fanny.  Does — Robert?  (Virginia  nods) 
Often  ? 

Virginia.    If  he  did  I  couldn't  bear  it. 

Fanny.    Virginia! 

Virginia.  When  he's  himself,  there  isn't  a  finer 
man  in  the  world,  but  when  he's  not — -^! 

Fanny.    Tell  me. 

Virginia.    I  can't. 

Fanny.    Oh,  yes,  you  can — me? 

Virginia.    No  ! 

Fanny.  Yes,  you  can,  dear.  Does  he  come 
home  in  a  bad  temper? 

Virginia.  He's  generally  in  the  best  of  tempers 
— at  first. 

Fanny.  And  then?  (Pause)  You  can  tell 
me !    What  is  it  ? 

Virginia.  Then — it  isn't  love — it  isn't  honest 
passion — he's  just  a  stranger — inflamed  with  liquor 
— who  has  me  in  his  power. 

Fanny.     (Rises)     Virgie! 

Virginia.  It's  horrible ;  sometimes  I  can  hardly 
look  at  him  for  days!  And  all  the  time — I  love 
him ! 

Fanny.    Oh,  then  you  do  love  him? 

Virginia.  If  it  wasn't  for  just  that  one  thing 
I  could  be  the  happiest  woman  in  the  world. 

Fanny.  Poor  little  girl!  (There  is  a  knock  on 
door  L.  I )    James,  probably !    Shall  I  see  ? 

Virginia.    Yes  f 

(Fanny  opens  the  door  l.  t.  James  enters  dressed 
in  evening  clothes.  Fanny  kisses  hint  tw- 
pitlsively.  Virginia  goes  up  to  bookcase  up  L., 
gets  hook  which  is  on  top  of  desk.) 

Jim.    What's  that  for? 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  41 

Fanny.    Just  general  principles. 

Jim.  (l.  c.)  Oh!  Well,  I  guess  this  was  scwne 
night  for  the  Gilley  family,  eh? 

Fanny.  (Crosses  to  chair  r.  of  table  L.  c,  right 
side)     Wasn't  it? 

Jim.  You  were  queens.  Both  of  you!  The 
others  were  only  deuces. 

Fanny,  (r.  of  table)  You'd  be  sure  to  think 
that!    (Sits  in  chair  r.,  of  table  l.  c.) 

Jim.  (Crosses  to  r.  c.)  So  would  anybody  with 
good  eyes.  Honest,  I  never  saw  so  much  paint  on 
a  bunch  of  women  in  my  life.  When  it  comes  to 
complexion,  they  make  the  crowd  at  the  French 
Maid's  Ball  look  like  a  lot  of  schoolgirls  just  out 
of  the  convent. 

Fanny.    It  was  pretty  bad. 

Jim.  The  funny  thing  was  that  the  old  ones  were 
the  worst.  There  was  one  in  particular — the  one 
that  wore  that  long  fur  coat 

Fanny.    — What  fur  coat  ? 

Jim.  I'm  not  sure  what  kind  of  fur  it  was,  but  it 
looked  to  me  like  unborn  plush! 

Fanny.    James ! 

Jim.  Well,  that  dame,  you  could  have  used  her 
face  for  a  danger  signal — on  the  level  you  could — 
and  yet  I'll  bet  she  was  so  old  it  would  break  a  fellow 
just  to  buy  candles  for  her  birthday  cake 

Fanny.    I  know  the  one  you  mean. 

Jim.  (To  c.)  Why  do  they  do  that?  Do  they 
think  folks  are  blind  ?  Or  does  each  woman  imagine 
that  while  she  can  spot  it  on  every  other  woman  a 
mile  off,  nobody  can  see  it  on  her? 

Fanny.    I  think  you  have  guessed  it ! 

(Virginia  down  l.  to  chair  l.  of  table  l.  c,  with 
book  in  hand.) 

Virginia.    We  were  all  right,  weren't  we  ? 
Jim.    That's  what  you  were  1    And  while  we  are 


42  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

on  the  subject,  what  is  the  matter  with  yours  truly? 
{Surveys  his  clothes  with  great  satisfaction) 

Virginia.    Splendid. 

Fanny.  James  got  a  Tuxedo  a  year  ago,  but  this 
is  the  first  time  he  has  worn  full  evening  dress. 

Jim.  I  felt  all  right  in  it  except  my  hands  and 
feet.  My  hands  are  no  bigger  than  any  other  fel- 
low's. But,  while  I  had  on  the  white  kids  I  felt 
there  was  nothing  to  me  but  the  lunch  hooks ! 

Fanny.    James ! 

Jim.  Honest,  Fanny,  they  felt  so  big  that  every 
time  I  put  my  feet  down  I  thought  I  was  going  to 
step  on  one  of  'em. 

Virginia.  {Sits  in  chair  r.  of  table  l.  c.) 
They're  beautiful ! 

Jim.  {Indicating  the  sock  which  shows  above 
the  pump)  What  I  object  to  is  the  draught  that 
comes  through  the  open  windows.  I  wouldn't  be  a 
bit  surprised  if  I  had  >.aught  a  very  servere  cold  in 
the  instep !  Pretty  good  looking  suit,  though,  isn't 
it? 

Fanny.    Yes,  indeed! 

Jim.  And  say — {Indicating  his  studs)  What  do 
you  think  of  my  almost  pearls  ? 

Virginia.    I'll  get  you  some  genuine  ones. 

Jim.  Don't  you  do  it !  I  looked  the  other  fel- 
lows' over  and  you  couldn't  tell  'em  from  mine!  If 
you  have  any  money  to  invest  on  me,  put  it  into 
something  that'll  show ! 

Virginia.  I  will!  And  now  tell  me,  what  did 
you  really  think  of  the  opera,  Jimmie? 

Jim.  I  hoped  I  wouldn't  have  to  mention  it !  And 
say — {Stands  between  sofa  and  armchair  r.   c.) 

Virginia.    What? 

Jim,  Won't  you  please  drop  the  "  Jimmie  "  and 
call  me  James? 

Virginia.    Why? 

Jim.  I'm  going  to  be  a  millionaire  some  day  and, 
when  I  am,  "  James  Gilley  "  will  be  bad  enough,  but 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  43 

"Jimmie  Gilley  " — Jimmie  Gilley  wouldn't  sound 
as  though  I  had  a  cent. 

Virginia.  I  see !  Well,  from  this  time  on  it  shall 
be  '•  James !  " 

Jim.    Thanks! 

Virginia.  And  now,  having  settled  that  point,  I 
ask  you  again — what  did  you  really  think  of  the 
opera  ? 

Jim.    On  the  level,  or  to  tell  to  the  neighbors  ? 

Virginia,    Is  there  any  difference? 

Jim.  You  bet  there  is.  To  the  neighbors  I'll  say 
it  was  "  so  delightful,"  and  "  extremely  artistic," 
but  if  it's  on  the  level,  I'll  say  it  was  common  or 
garden  bunk. 

Virginia.    What  ? 

Fanny.    Bunk  ? 

Jim.  Yes.  Fancy  paying  five  a  throw  to  hear  a 
sawed-off  Italian  let  go  a  few  top  notes,  when  you 
can  have  the  same  seat  in  a  vaudeville  theater  and 
get  Eva  Tanguay  and  a  whole  bunch  of  good  acts 
for  a  dollar!  Five  a  throw  to  hear  a  dago  yodel 
something  I  don't  even  understand.  Not  for  my 
money. 

Fanny.    James ! 

Jim.  And  the  leading  lady — a  human  joke  if  ever 
there  was  one.  There  they  were  all  telling  about  this 
beautiful  maiden  of  eighteen  summers  and  when 
she  came  on — a  beautiful  maiden?  A  milk  wagon, 
believe  me,  a  milk  wagon! 

Fanny.  (To  Virginia)  You  see,  dear,  James 
only  cares  for  violin  music. 

(Virginia  goes  up  and  back  to  sofa  at  r.) 

Jim.  (Crossing  to  l.  c.)  I  don't  even  care  for 
that. 

Fanny.  Then  why  did  you  take  me  last  week 
to  see  that  famous  violmist? 

Jim.    a  mistake,  my  dear.    I  didn't  know  he  was 


44  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

a  violmist.    You  see,  he  was  holding  his  bow  like 
this — {Bus.)  and  I  thought  he  was  a  juggler! 
Virginia.    {At  fireplace  r.)    You're  incorrigible ! 

(Fanny  rises,  crosses  front  table  to  l.) 

Jim.  Musical  comedy  and  vaudeville  for  mine. 
I've  joined  the  ranks  of  the  tired  business  men,  like 
your  husband. 

Virginia.    Robert  is  very  fond  of  opera. 

Jim.  Which  accounts  for  his  not  stopping  to 
hear  it,  I  suppose? 

Virginia.  He  had  to  see  some  of  his  associates 
on  a  very  important  matter. 

Jim.  That's  what  I'll  be  saying  soon!  I'm  al- 
ready getting  a  hundred  a  week.  I  guess  that's  bad 
for  a  fellow  who,  two  years  ago,  was  only  getting 
fourteen. 

Fanny.    It's  just  splendid. 

Jim.  And  the  best  thing  about  it  is  that  I  did  it 
all  myself. 

Virginia.    All  ? 

Jim.    Yes,  every  bit ! 

Virginia.    Didn't  Robert  help  any? 

Jim.  He  gave  me  the  chance,  but  how  long  do 
you  think  I'd  have  lasted  if  I  hadn't  made  good? 

Virginia.  What  salary  were  you  getting  when 
Robert  gave  you  your  chance  ? 

Jim.  That's  got  nothing  to  do  with  it.  (Has 
come  from  front  of  sofa) 

Virginia.  You  were  getting  fourteen  dollars  a 
week  and  he  started  you  at  fifty.  That  was  some 
help,  wasn't  it? 

Jim.    Oh,  well! 

Virginia.  I  mention  this  only  to  make  you  re- 
member that  Robert  is  entitled  to  at  least  a  part  of 
the  credit  for  your  advancement. 

Jim.  He  gave  me  my  start,  I'll  admit  that.  But 
did  he  raise  me  to  seventy-five  and  then  to  a  hundred 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  45 

out  of  charity?  Not  much!  He  did  it  because  I 
was  worth  it. 

Fanny.    Of  course. 

Jim.  Yes,  and  I'm  worth  more  than  a  hundred 
now.  I'm  going  to  strike  for  a  raise  pretty  soon, 
and  if  I  don't  get  it — if  I  don't  get  it,  I'll  put  on  my 
coat,  walk  right  out  and  leave  him  fiat.  {Sits  r.  c 
in  armchair,  shows  socks) 

Fanny.    James ! 

Virginia.    And  then  what  will  you  do? 

Jim.    Go  to  work  somewhere  else. 

Virginia.    As  a  shipping  clerk  ? 

Jim.    I  should  say  not. 

Virginia,    Then  what  will  you  do? 

Jim.    I'll  find  something. 

Virginia.  At  a  salary  of  over  five  thousand  dol- 
lars a  year? 

Jim.    Yes. 

Virginia.    Don't  be  foolish ! 

Fanny.  (Crosses  to  Jim)  I  think  you'd  better 
stick  to  Robert.     (Goes  round  to  table  back) 

Jim.  You  two  talk  as  though  I  was  getting  my 
salary  out  of  charity — as  though  Mr.  Stafford  was 
handing  me  something!  Well,  I  tell  you  he  isn't. 
There's  no  friendship  in  business,  and  if  I  wasn't 
worth  a  hundred  I  wouldn't  get  it !  I'm  a  valuable 
man  to  your  husband.  I've  put  him  on  to  four  or 
five  good  things  already.  Did  he  tell  you  about 
'em? 

Virginia.    No. 

Jim.  I  did  it  just  the  same,  and  if  he  followed  my 
advice  and  played  it  strong  he  must  have  made  half 
a  million  or  so  just  out  of  my  tips !  I'm  not  con- 
ceited— not  a  bit — but  I  know  what  I  can  do!  I 
know  it. 

{Telephone  bell  rings  on  l.  1  e.    Virginia  answers 
it.    Jim  rises,  goes  c.) 


46  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Virginia.  (At  'phone)  Thank  you.  (Replaces 
receiver)     Robert  has  just  come  in. 

Jim.  There's  another  thing.  Why  shouldn't  I  call 
him  Robert  the  same  as  you  and  Fanny  do? 

Virginia.    Has  he  objected? 

Jim.  No,  I've  never  tried  it!  (Crosses  to  fire- 
place R.)  I  feel  like  a  fool  though  at  the  office. 
Everybody  knows  he's  my  brother-in-law,  and  yet 
I  have  to  call  him  Mr.  Stafford — just  as  though  he 
was  no  relation  at  all.  Do  you  think  he'd  mind  if 
I  called  him  Robert? 

(Fanny  crosses  to  dressing-table  c.) 

Virginia.  (Crossing  to  armchair  r.  c.)  You 
must  be  the  judge  of  that.  (There  is  a  knock  at  the 
door)     Come  in! 

(Stafford  enters  l.  i.  He  is  evidently  drunk. 
He  is  in  the  best  of  humor,  but  when  he  speaks 
to  his  wife  his  looks  and  manner  must  show  the 
feeling  toward  her  about  which  she  has  previ- 
ously spoken.) 

Stafford.  Evening  everybody!  (Beams  upon 
them  all) 

(Virginia's  face  shows  her  feelings.) 

Virginia.    Good-evening,  Robert. 

Stafford.  (Crosses  to  Virgin  a)  Hello,  Honey. 
(Kisses  Virginia,  puts  his  arm  about  her)  My, 
but  you  look  sweet  to-night.  (To  Jim)  Do  you 
wonder  that  I'm  in  love  with  her? 

Jim.    I  should  say  not. 

Stafford.  She's  the  prettiest  and  sweetest  girl 
that  ever  lived,    (To  Virginia)    Kiss  me,  honey. 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  ^ 

(Fanny  crosses  to  wall  cabinet  L.) 

Virginia.    Robert !    Please ! 

Stafford.  Oh,  go  on !  You  know  you  love  me—* 
kiss  me!  {Pause)  Oh,  go  on,  kiss  me.  (Virginia 
reluctantly  kisses  him)  That's  the  girl!  {He  re- 
leases her.  Virginia  looks  at  Fanny,  their  eyes 
meet,    Virginia  crosses  to  window  l.  c.)    Jimmie! 

Jim.    Yes  ? 

Stafford.  {Crossing  to  armchair  r.  c.)  What 
salary  are  you  getting? 

Jim.    a  hundred. 

Stafford.  You're  not ;  you're  getting  a  hundred 
and  fifty. 

Jim     I'm  getting  a  hundred. 

Stafford,  You're  getting  a  hundred  and  fifty. 
(Jim  looks  delighted)  And  when  you're  really 
worth  twenty,  I'll  make  it  two  hundred. 

Jim.     {His  expression  changes)     Twenty! 

Stafford.  Yes.  I  have  a  system  about  you,  I 
pay  you  ten  times  what  I  think  you're  worth. 

Jim.    Oh,  do  you? 

Stafford.  Mm !  Mm !  When  you  first  came  I 
figured  you  were  worth  five,  so  I  gave  you  fifty! 
When  I  thought  you  were  worth  seven  and  a  half, 
I  gave  you  seventy-five,  and  when  I  thought  you 
were  earning  ten,  I  raised  it  to  a  hundred ! 

Jim.    And  now  you  think  I'm  worth  fifteen. 

Stafford.  No,  I  don't,  Jimmie !  Oh,  no,  I  don't  f 
I  raise  you  the  other  fifty  because — well — there's  a 
reason!  Jimmie,  as  a  favor — as  a  favor — promise 
me  you'll  never  get  to  be  worth  twenty-five !  The 
manager  of  your  department — ^gets  only  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty,  and  I  couldn't  pay  you  as  much  as  I 
pay  him,  could  I? 

Jim.  I  hoped  to  be  manager  of  the  department 
some  day. 

Stafford.    What's  that  ?  ' 


48  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Jim.  I  say  I  hoped  to  be  manager  of  the  depart- 
ment some  day. 

Stafford.  Jimmie,  for  all  our  sakes,  let's  hope 
that  your  hope  doesn't  come  true.  (Virginia  comes 
down  L.  c.  Fanny  crosses  to  table  l.  Stafford 
goes  to  Virginia.  Jim  sits  on  sofa  r.)  My,  but 
you  do  look  sweet  to-night.  {He  makes  as  if  to  kiss 
her) 

Virginia.  (Evades  Stafford)  Please!  (In- 
dicates that  others  are  present,  goes  up  r.  c.  Fanny 
comes  down  to  l.  chair  of  table  l.  c.) 

Stafford.  (To  Fanny)  Oh,  you  wouldn't  mind, 
would  you !  You  wouldn't  mind  if  a  husband  kissed 
his  own  wife? 

Fanny.    No,  of  course  not. 

Stafford.  (Goes  to  Fanny  l.)  How's  the 
kid? 

Fanny,    Very  well,  thank  you. 

Stafford.  When  I  saw  her  this  morning  I 
thought  she  looked — little  pale.  Now,  it  isn't  good 
for  kids  to  look  pale — shows  that  they  don't  get 
enough  fresh  air  and  sunshine.  So  do  you  know 
what  I'm  going  to  do?    (Up  and  down  extreme  l.) 

Fanny.    No. 

Stafford.  In  the  morning  I'm  going  to  send  you 
one  of  my  cars  as  a  present  for  her. 

Fanny.    Oh,  Robert. 

Stafford.  That's  the  reason  I've  just  raised 
Jimmie  fifty;  to  pay  for  the  chauffeur  and  things. 
Then  kid  can  have  plenty  of  fresh  air,  see ! 

Fanny.    You're  too  good ! 

Stafford.  Ssh !  It's  for  the  kid !  I'm  very  fond 
of  her!  And  besides,  she's  named  for  Virgie.  (To 
Jimmie)    How  does  the  idea  strike  you? 

Jim.     (Rising)    What? 

Stafford.  I've  just  made  little  Virgie  a  present 
of  an  auto. 

Jim.    What  make  is  it? 

Stafford.    It's  a —  I   You're  always  there,  aren't 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  49 

you !  Honest,  Jimmie,  you  give  me  many  a  laugh. 
Don't  change  your  disposition  or  I'll  never  forgive 
you. 

Jim.    I  didn't  know  I  was  so  funny. 

Stafford.  That's  the  beauty  of  the  whole  busi- 
ness! 

Fanny.  An  auto — for  ourselves.  Isn't  that 
lovely  ? 

Jim.  I  don't  know  that  we  ought  to  accept 
presents  from  anybody  now — not  even  from — 
Robert ! 

Stafford.     (Tunis  to  Jim)    What's  that? 

Jim.  I  said  I  wasn't  sure  that  we  ought  to  accept 
presents  even  from  you,  Robert. 

Stafford.  Just  a  minute.  To  my  wife  I  am 
Robert!  Yes!  To  my  wife's  sister  I  am  Robert — 
but  to  you — to  you,  I  am  Mr.  Stafford,  even  when 
I'm  drunk, 

Jim.  You  call  me  Jimmie — you  don't  even  call 
me  James. 

Stafford.    So  I  do. 

Fanny.    But  that's  different. 

Jim.    How  ? 

Fanny.    In  every  way. 

Jim.    I  don't  see  it. 

Stafford.  (To  Jim)  You're  right!  You're 
right !  I  have  been  entirely  too  familiar  and  I  beg 
your  pardon.  From  now  on  I  shall  be  most  careful 
to  address  you  always  as  Mr.  Gilley. 

Jim.    You  needn't  rub  it  in. 

Stafford,  No  idea  of  doing  such  a  thing.  Just 
one  gentleman  to  another.  "  Mr.  Stafford  "  and 
"Mr.  Gilley."  That's  perfectly  fair.  (To  Vir- 
ginia)    Don't  you  think  so? 

Virginia.  (Upper  chair  front  of  dressing-table 
c.)    Yes. 

Stafford.  Glad  of  it.  My  you  do  look  sweet,  to- 
night. (Sits  in  armchair  r.  c.)  Doesn't  she,  Jimmie 
< — ^James — I  mean  Mr.  Gilley. 


50  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Jim.    I  think  we  had  better  say  good-night. 

Fanny.    Yes. 

Stafford.    Must  you  go? 

Jim.  (Crossing  to  l.  c.)  It's  nearly  one  o'clock 
and  I've  got  to  be  at  the  office  by  nine  You  haven't 
got  to  be  there  unless  you  want  to  and  that  makes 
a  difference. 

Stafford.    So  it  does.    Good-night ! 

Jim.  (To  Stafford)  Good-night  I  Good-night, 
Virgie ! 

(Fanny  goes  up  back  to  Virginia.) 

Virginia.    Good-night ! 

Fanny.    (Kissing  Virginia)    Good-night,  dear. 

(JiMY  yawns,  sits  chair  L.  of  table.) 

Virginia,    Good-night,  Fanny. 

Fanny.  (Crossing  to  Stafford  in  armchair  r.  c. 
To  him)  Good-night !  And  thank  you  so  much  for 
the  auto ! 

Stafford.  Ssh!  For  the  kid!  Kiss  her  good- 
night for  me,  will  you  ? 

Fanny.  Indeed  I  will.  But  she's  asleep  now, 
Robert.    (Exits  l.  i) 

(Virginia  exits  after  Fanny.) 

Jim.  (To  Stafford)  If  I  don't  get  a  good 
eight  hours'  sleep  my  brain  don't  work  right.  Would 
you  mind  if  I  was  late  an  hour  or  so  in  the  morning? 

Stafford.  I  wouldn't.  But  McLaughlin  might. 
He's  the  superintendent  of  your  department,  and  I 
never  interfere  with  the  superintendent. 

Jim.  He'd  be  sure  to  call  me  down.  He's  got  it 
in  for  me  and  don't  mind  showing  it.  Some  time 
z)\  tell  him  what  I  think  about  him. 

J^Tafford.     (Rises,  to  Jim)     Don't  you  do  it! 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  51 

If  you  do  he  might  tell  you  what  he  really  thinks 
about  you.  So  take  my  advice  and  don't  go  out  of 
your  class. 

Jim.    But  if  I  told  him  that  you 

Stafford.  No,  I  never  interfere  with  superin- 
tendents. 

JiMMiE.  Then  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  be  there. 
But  remember  this,  if  I  don't  get  a  good  eight 
hours'  sleep,  my  brain  don't  work,  right,  so  if  I'm 
not  up  to  my  usual  standard,  don't  blame  me. 
{Exit  L.  I  E.) 

(Vj'>ginia  starts  to  cross  to  door  r.  2.) 

Stafford.  (Near  door)  Brain,  ha,  ha!  Good- 
night. Jimmie's  brain!  (Laughs  and  goes  to  Vir- 
ginia R.  c.)  That  boy's  more  fun  to  me  I  I  wouldn't 
lose  his  company  for  anything  in  the  world.  From 
the  very  first  day  he  came  to  work  for  me,  he's  been 
full  of  suggestions — they've  all  been  good — one  of 
them — one  of  them  made  me  laugh  for  a  week.  I 
even  laugh  now  whenever  I  think  of  it.  (Virginia 
crosses  to  sofa — Stafford  laughs)  You'll  enjoy  it, 
too,  so  listen !  Listen  now,  because  you'll  enjoy  it. 
He  wanted  me — (Laughs)  You'll  enjoy  it,  too — he 
wanted  me  to  put  up  a  factory — (Laughs  again) 
It's  the  funniest  thing  I  ever  heard!  You'll  enjoy 
it.  He  wanted  me  to  put  up  a  factory — to  make  in- 
fants* food  out  of  prickly  pears !  (Laughs  uproari- 
ously) Infants*  food — prickly  pears — isn't  that  im- 
mense? Isn't  that  the  funniest  idea  that — (Notices 
that  Virginia  has  not  joined  in  his  merriment) 
Don't  you  think  it's  funny  ? 

Virginia.    Yes,  dear,  it  probably  is. 

Stafford.  There's  no  "  probably  "  about  it — it 
certainly  is.  I  don't  think  you  got  it,  so  I'll  tell  it 
again.    He  wanted  me  to  put  up  a  factory 

Virginia.    Please,  I  understand. 

Stafford.    Well,  don't  you  think  it's  funny  ? 


p  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Virginia.    Yes,  dear,  it  is. 

Stafford.    You  didn't  seem  to  enjoy  it. 

Virginia.  Perhaps  I'm  not  in  the  humor.  I'm 
very  tired,  so  I  think  I'll  say  good-night,  dear. 
{Goes  toward  door  r.  c.) 

Stafford,  {hitercepts  her)  Not  just  yet — not 
just  yet ! 

Virginia.  (Sweetly  and  coaxtngly)  Please  let 
me  go.  Be  a  nice,  good  husband  and  say  "good- 
night," won't  you,  dear,  please? 

Stafford.    But  I 

Virginia.  Oh,  please,  dear — do!  Youll  make 
me  so  happy  if  you  will!  Besides,  it's  quite  late, 
remember,  and  I'm  tired — I  really  am. 

Stafford.    Tired,  are  you  ? 

Virginia.    Yes,  dear. 

Stafford.  Well,  I  know  the  best  thing  in  the 
world  to  cure  that  tired  feeling— champagne ! 

{There  is  a  pause — ^Virginia  looks  at  Stafford.) 

Virginia.  You've  had  some  sent  to  your  room 
— again?  {He  nods)  Don't  touch  it  now — please, 
please ! 

Stafford.    Why  not? 

Virginia.    You've  had  enough —  already. 

Stafford.  I'm  all  right.  I  can  take  twice  as 
much  as  I've  had  and  not  even  feel  it — see? 
{Crosses  to  door  l.  3)  I'll  tell  Oku  to  bring  it 
in 

Virginia.    No,  Robert — ^no! 

Stafford.    (Comes  back  c.)    What's  the  matter? 

Virginia.  Don't  take  any  more.  Please,  dear! 
It  isn't  good  for  you ! 

Stafford.  Good  for  me!  Don't  you  worry 
about  that.  I  know  what's  good  for  me!  And  I 
want  that  wine  and  I'm  going  to  have  it. 

Virginia.  Then  say  good-night.  (Crosses  l.  as 
if  to  go  after  Fanny — then  goes  up  and  indicates 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  53 

Stafford'^  room)    And  take  it  in  your  own  room! 

Stafford.  Drink  alone!  And  you  right  here? 
Well,  I  should  say  not!  ( Stafford' j  hand  drops 
inside  the  door,  and  touches  the  key.  An  idea 
strikes  him  and,  unseen,  by  Virginia,  he  takes  the 
key  from  the  lock  and  puts  it  in  his  pocket,  during 
the  remainder  of  the  speech)  Where'd  be  the  fun 
of  that?  No,  we'll  have  it  here  and  we'll  have 
a  little  party — just  you  and  me!  A  little  party — 
eh?    {Goes  to  Virginia) 

Virginia.    Please  don't ! 

Stafford.    Why  not? 

Virginia.    I  remember — the  last  time. 

Stafford.    When  was  that? 

Virginia.    About  a  week  ago. 

Stafford.    What  about  it? 

Virginia.    Don't  you  remember  ? 

Stafford.  No.  (Virginia  turns  away  in  des- 
pair) What's  the  good  of  thinking  about  that  any- 
way ?  There's  no  time,  like  the  present,  so  I'll  have 
Oku  bring  it  in  and  I'll  drink — I'll  drink  to  your 
pretty  eyes.  My,  but  you  look  sweet  to-night.  I'll 
ring  for  Oku.  (Starts  to  cross  to  l.,  when  about 
halfway  across  stage  he  stops  and  looks  at  Virginia, 
who  is  looking  at  the  entrance  to  her  room  as  if 
hesitating  as  to  whether  to  go  into  it  or  not.  There 
is  a  pause)  You  won't  run  away?  (Virginia 
starts  and  looks  toward  Stafford — there  is  a  pause 
—Stafford  goes  to  Virginia)  It  wouldn't  be  a 
pretty  thing  for  you  to  run  away  from  your  hus- 
band. So  you  won't  do  it,  will  you?  {There  is  a 
pause)    Will  you? 

Virginia.    No  ;  I  won't  run  away. 

Stafford.  Good!  {Opens  door  l.  3)  Oku, 
open  the  wine  and  bring  it  in  here — two  glasses. 

Oku.    {Off)    Two  glasses — yes. 

Stafford.  (Crosses  to  chair  r.  of  table  l.c.) 
Oku's  a  good  boy — he*s  a  very  good  boy,  but  he 
isn't  half  as  funny  as  Jimmie!     It's  worth  twice 


'54  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Jimmie's  salary  just  to  have  him  around  to  make 
me  laugh.  And  he  does  make  me  laugh!  He 
doesn't  know  that  I'm  laughing,  but  I  know  it. 
That's  what  makes  it  so  funny ! 

(Oku  enters  with  wine  and  glasses  l.  3  and  puts 
them  on  table.) 

Oku.    Shall  I  serve? 

Stafford.    Eh  ? 

Oku.    Shall  I  serve? 

Stafford.  Yes.  (Oku  fills  the  glasses)  That's 
all  for  you  to-night. 

Oku.    I  must  not  wait? 

Stafford.  No  !  I'll  ring  when  I  want  you  in  the 
morning. 

Oku.    Yes !    Excuse,  please.    Excuse !    (Exit  l. 

3) 

Stafford,  (l.  of  table  l.  c.)  Here's  to  you, 
sweetheart.  (Pushes  one  glass  toward  Virginia 
and  drains  his  own  glass — as  he  pust  his  glass  down 
he  notices  the  other  is  still  full)    You  didn't  drink  ? 

Virginia.    No. 

Stafford.    Aren't  you  going  to? 

Virginia.    No. 

Stafford.    Oh,  go  on — ^just  a  glass. 

Virginia.    No. 

Stafford.    Why  not? 

Virginia.    I  don't  wish  to. 

Stafford.  Is  that  so  ?  (Fills  and  drinks  another 
glass)  Suppose  I  wanted  you  to — would  you  take 
it  then  ? 

Virginia.    Now,  dear 

Stafford.    Would  you? 

Virginia.    No. 

Stafford.    You  wouldn't? 

Virginia.  No,  I  wouldn't!  I  don't  like  it,  I 
don't  want  it,  and  even  you  couldn't  make  me  tair- 
it.    (Crossei  to  c.) 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  55 

Stafford.  I  couldn't,  eh  ?  Perhaps  you'd  like  to 
see  me  try  ? 

Virginia.  Please  don't  speak  to  me  like  that, 
dear.  It  hurts  me  dreadfully.  If  I  didn't  know 
that  it  isn't  yourself  who  is  talking 

Stafford.    Not  myself — then  who  is  it? 

Virginia.  It's  the  man  who  takes  your  place 
when  yoii  are  drunk. 

Stafford.  Well,  what  about  this  man — ^you  don't 
like  him,  do  you? 

Virginia.    No. 

Stafford.  Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about 
it? 

Virginia.  Please  let  me  go,  dear;  I'm  very 
unhappy.     Good-night.     (Starts  toward  exit  r.  3) 

Stafford.  Wait — (Pause)  Wait  (Virginia 
stops)     Don't  you  like  to  talk  to  me?    Don't  you? 

Virginia.    Of  course  I  do! 

Stafford.    Then  come  and  sit  down  and  do  it. 

Virginia.    I'm  tired,  dear. 

Stafford.  Come  and  sit  down  here.  (Indicates 
chair  r.  of  table)     There ! 

Virginia.    But,  Robert 

Stafford.  There!  (Virginia  returns  and  sits 
on  chair  l.  of  table — Stafford  fills  his  glass  and 
drinks — he  sits  r.  of  table  and  puts  both  elbows  on 
it,  stares  into  her  face)  You  looked  great  with  the 
whole  business  on,  but  with  this  fluffy  thing.  .  . 
(He  leans  across  the  table,  places  his  hand  on 
Virginia's  bare  arm  and  drazvs  his  hand  dozvn  her 
arm  zvhich  she  zvithdraivs  from  his  touch)  Oh! 
what's  the  matter?  Is  there  anything  wrong  in  a 
man  telling  his  wife  she's  pretty?  Is  there? 
(Pause)     Is  there? 

Virginia.    No. 

Stafford.  Then  why  do  you  want  to  quarrel 
with  me? 

Virginia.    I  don't  want  to  quarrel  with  you. 
Stafford.    Then  we're  friends,  are  we — Mm  I 


56  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Virginia.    Yes. 

Stafford.  Then  shake  hands  on  it.  (Pause) 
Come  on,  now,  shake  hands  on  it.  If  you  don't 
want  to  quarrel,  shake  hands  on  it.  (Virginia  hesi- 
tatingly puts  out  her  hand,  which  Stafford  grasps) 
Good — and  now  let's  kiss  and  make  up.    (Rises) 

Virginia.  I  tell  you  I  want  to  go.  (c. — both 
standing — Virginia  tries  to  release  her  hand  but 
fails) 

Stafford.  Let's  kiss  and  make  up.  Come  on, 
now,  kiss  me,  and  that'll  show  we're  friends. 

Virginia.    I  can't! 

Stafford.    Can't — why  ? 

Virginia.  For  one  thing — the  odor  of  stale  wine 
and  whiskey  isn't  pleasant. 

Stafford.    Is  there  any  other  reason? 

Virginia.  There  is — and  a  very  important  one 
— I  don't  want  to  kiss  you. 

Stafford.  That  means  you  don't  love  me.  Is 
that  it  ? 

Virginia.  I  love  the  man  I  married — ^love  him 
with  all  my  heart;  and  he  loves  me.  But  you  are 
not  the  man  I  married.  You  are  another  man.  You 
are  a  stranger;  a  man  inflamed  with  liquor;  a  man 
who  comes  and  talks  to  me  of  love  when  it  isn't 
love  at  all ;  a  man  whose  every  protestation  of  love 
is  an  insult.  That's  the  man  you  are  and  I  hate — 
I  hate  him — I  hate  him !     (  Crosses  to  l.  ) 

Stafford.  (Taking  hold  of  her  arm)  So  you 
hate  him,  do  you? 

Virginia.  Yes,  I  do !  And  now  will  you  let  me 
go? 

Stafford.  No,  I  won't  Even  though  you  do 
hate  me,  you're  still  my  wife.  Who  were  you  till  I 
married  you — nobody!  What  were  you?  A  tele- 
phone girl  getting  ten  dollars  a  week.  And  now  who 
are  you  ?  You're  Mrs.  Robert  Stafford ;  and  what 
are  you — ^you're  the  wife  of  one  of  tha  richest  men, 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  57 

in  the  country — and  how  did  he  get  his  wife?  He 
bought  you  and  he  paid  for  you. 

Virginia.    You  didn't! 

Stafford.  Oh,  yes,  I  did.  Did  you  love  me  when 
you  married  me?  No.  Would  you  have  married 
me  if  I'd  been  poor  ?  No !  I  bought  you  and  I  paid 
for  you,  and  anything  I've  bought  and  paid  for  be- 
longs to  me.    And  now  will  you  kiss  me  ? 

Virginia.    No. 

Stafford.  Then  if  you  won't  I'll — {He  stops 
abruptly  and  his  manner  changes)  Oh,  what's  the 
use  of  quarreling — I  don't  want  to  be  mean  to  you. 
I  want  to  be  nice  to  you ! 

Virginia.  Then  why  do  you  insult  me?  Why  do 
you  wish  to  degrade  me? 

Stafford.    Degrade  you — why,  you're  my  wife! 

Virginia.  Does  that  makes  the  degradation  anv 
the  less  ?  When  I  married  you,  did  I  become  your 
property?  Do  you  own  me?  Have  I  surrendered 
all  rights  in  myself?  When  you  placed  a  wedding 
ring  on  my  finger  did  it  mean  that  I  forfeited  my 
free  will  ?    If  so — then  marriage  is  horrible ! 

Stafford.    The  law  says  that  a  husband 

Virginia.  The  law — the  law — always  remember 
this — the  minute  a  husband  even  mentions  his  legal 
rights  it  shows  that  he  has  lost  his  moral  rights  and 
the  moral  rights  are  the  only  ones  that  count.  (Her 
tone  changes  to  one  of  pleading)  Let  me  go,  dear 
— please  let  me  go.  (Virginia  starts  to  door — both 
walk  a  few  steps  to  r.) 

Stafford.  (Takes  her  by  arm)  You  just  be 
nice,  good  little  wife  and  in  the  morning  you  can  go 
down  to  Tiffany's  and  buy  anything  you  like — any- 
thing. 

Virginia.  Ha,  ha — no  wonder  you  talk  of  buy- 
ing me !  If  I  did  that,  where  would  I  be  any  better 
than  a  woman  of  the  streets — where?  (In  a  tone 
of  finality)  Good-night.  (Starts  to  go  to  door  R. 
3) 


58  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Stafford.  {Intercepts  her)  You're  not  going  to 
leave  me. 

Virginia.    lam!    I  tell  you  I  am! 

Stafford.    Oh,  no,  you're  not 

Virginia.    Robert ! 

Stafford.  At  least  not  till  you  have  given— me 
— a — kiss — just  one.    Then  you  can  go. 

Virginia.    You  promise  that? 

Stafford.    Yes. 

Virginia.    Just  one? 

Stafford.  Just  one.  (Virginia  kisses  him  on 
cheek)     Not  that  kind  a — real  one! 

Virginia.    I  can't — I  can't! 

Stafford.  All  right,  then!  (Takes  hold  of 
Virginia  and  draws  her  toward  him — she  struggles) 

Virginia.  Let  me  go — let  me  go — let  me  go! 
(Stafford  drazvs  Virginia  to  him  and  kisses  her 
full  on  the  mouth — then  he  releases  her  and  re- 
taxes)  Oh,  my  God !  (Virginia  rushes  to  her  bed- 
room and  locks  the  door) 

(Stafford  takes  the  poker  from  fireplace,  rushes 
to  door,  smashes  in  panel,  puts  his  arm  through 
and  opens  door  as 

THE  CURTAIN 

FALLS. 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  59 


ACT  III. 

Scene  : — Same  as  Act  II. 
Time: — Next  morning. 

(Josephine  is  discovered  l.   c.     She  is  placing 

Virginia's  jewels  on  the  table,  leaving  the  tops 
of  all  boxes  open  so  th^t  their  contents  may  be 
seen.    This  occupies  her  for  a  short  time.) 

(Virginia  enters  r.    She  is  dressed  in  a  plain  walk- 
ing suit. ) 

Virginia.    Is  that  everything? 

Josephine.  Yes,  Madame !  All  except  those  that 
are  in  the  safe,  Madame. 

Virginia.  I'll  give  you  an  order  for  them.  (Goes 
to  desk  R.  and  sits  there) 

Josephine.  Yes,  Madame.  (Virginia  starts  to 
write.  There  is  a  knock  on  door  L.  i )  Shall  I  see 
who  it  is,  Madame? 

Virginia.    Yes. 

(Josephine  opens  door  l.  i — Fanny  enters.) 

Fanny.    Good-morning. 

Virginia.  Good-morning,  dear.  (Finishes  note, 
crosses  and  offers  it  to  Josephine)  Give  that  to 
John. 

Josephine.  (Crosses  to  Virginia,  gets  note) 
Yes,  Madame.  (Crossing  back  of  table  l.  c.  and 
exits  L.  I ) 

Fanny.    I'm  so  sorry  about  last  night,  dear. 

Virginia.    Don't,  please. 


66  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Fanny.    Have  you  seen  him  this  morning? 

Virginia.    No. 

Fanny.    Then  you  don't  know  how  he  is  ? 

Virginia.    Oh,  yes,  I  do. 

Fanny.    How  do  you  ? 

Virginia.  {Crossing  to  chair  r.  c),  Previous 
experience. 

Fanny.    Oh ! 

Virginia.  Although  he  can*t  definitely  recall 
what  he  said  or  did,  he  is  thoroughly  repentant  and 
ashamed. 

Fanny.    That's  something,  anyway. 

Virginia.  Is  it,  when  it  gives  no  guarantee  of  the 
future  ? 

Fanny.  But  after  all's  said  and  done,  dear,  he  is 
your  husband  and  that  makes  everything  right, 
doesn't  it  ? 

Virginia.    No.    It  merely  makes  it  legal. 

Fanny.    Legal? 

Virginia.  Yes.  Lecherous  old  men  of  eighty 
marry  girls  in  their  teens,  but  does  that  make  their 
relations  right?  Avaricious  young  men  in  their 
twenties  marry  women  in  their  fifties ;  does  marriage 
make  their  relations  right?  In  some  states  white 
women  can  marry  black  men — marry  them  just  as 
properly  as  you  and  I  are  married — ^but  does  mar- 
riage make  their  relations  right?  No;  marriage 
merely  makes  them  legal. 

Fanny.  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  if  a  woman 
has  a  marriage  certificate 

Virginia.  Then  she  has  documentary  evidence 
that  she  is  lawfully  entitled  to  live  with  a  man. 
That's  all.  A  marriage  certificate  has  nothing  to  do 
with  the  morality  of  marriage.    Nothing! 

Fanny.    Then  what  has? 

Virginia.  Love — and  self-respect.  You  see  the 
legal  thing  isn't  always  the  right  thing,  and  if  I  am 
ever  forced  to  choose  between  what  is  legal  and  what 
is  right,  I  shall  choose  what  is  right. 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  6l 

Fanny.    Are  you  going  to  do — anything? 

Virginia.    Wiiat  can  I  do  ? 

Fanny.  I  don't  know.  {Pause)  And  yet  I  feel 
that  you  are  going  to  do  something — aren't  you? 
(Pause)  What?  {Slight  pause)  Tell  me.  (Pause) 
Whatever  it  is,  promise  that  you  won't  do  anything 
rash. 

Virginia.    I  can  promise  that  freely  enough. 

Fanny.    I'm  so  glad. 

Virginia.  And  you  must  promise  me  some- 
thing  

Fanny.     What  ? 

Virginia.  Promise  me  whatever  happens  that 
you  will  never  tell  Jimmie  about — Robert — and  me. 

Fanny.    Very  well. 

Virginia,  (r.  c.)  If  you  do  I  shall  never  forgive 
you.    Never ! 

Fanny.    I  won't. 

Virginia.    Whatever  happens,  remember. 

Fanny.     Then  something  is  going  to  happen? 

Virginia.    That  depends.     (Crosses  to  desk) 

Fanny.  I'm  so  worried.  Honest,  I  couldn't  sleep 
last  night  for  thinking  of  you.  I  was  that  nervous  I 
kept  Jimmie  awake,  too.  (Pause)  I'm  glad  you're 
not  going  to  do  anything  rash. 

Virginia.  Rash !  (At  desk  writing — there  is  a 
knock  at  door  l.  i)    Come. 

(Jimmie  enters  l.  i.) 

Jim.    Morning,  Virgie. 

Virginia.    Good-morning. 

Jim.  Just  dropped  in  to  say  "  good-bye "  be- 
fore I  hike  along. 

Virginia.  Glad  you  did.  (Come  to  sofa,  back 
of  it) 

Jim.  We've  had  a  bully  little  visit.  (To 
Fanny)    Haven't  we? 

Fanny.    Yes,  indeed. 


62  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Jim.  Great  finish,  too,  with  my  raise  and  the 
car. 

Fanny.    Yes. 

Jim.  I  hope  it's  a  late  model.  I  hate  those 
old-fashioned  things! 

Fanny.  {Up  c.  a  little)  I'll  be  satisfied  with 
any  car. 

Jim.  So  will  I — in  a  way.  But  I  hate  folks 
to  think  I'm  not  up  to  date.  {Crossing  to  Virginia 
at  sofa  R.)  If  he's  ready  we  can  go  down  together. 
Is  he? 

Virginia.    I  don't  think  so. 

Jim.  I  didn't  expect  he  would  be,  after  last 
night's  illumination!  He  was  full  circuited  from 
tower  to  basement.  On  the  level,  he  was  lit  up  so 
that  if  every  light  on  his  machine  had  gone  out  the 
cop  couldn't  have  said  a  word ! 

Fanny.  {Down  to  Jimmie  l.)  James!  Keep 
still! 

Jim.  Why?  Is  there  anything  criminal  in  a 
man  getting  tanked  up  once  in  a  while? 

Fanny.    Take  my  advice — don't  you  ever  try  it. 

Jim.    If  I  should,  what  can  you  do  about  it? 

Virginia.  The  husband's  unanswerable  question 
— ^what  can  you  do  about  it  ?    {Back  of  sofa) 

Jim.    Sure !    What  can  you  do  ? 

Fanny.    I'll  tell  you  what  I'd  do — I'd  leave  you. 

(Virginia  looks  at  Fanny.) 

Jim.    Yes,  you  would ! 

Fanny.  Yes,  I  would.  I  wouldn't  stand  for  any 
drunken  husband.  I'd  leave  him  so  quick  that — 
that — {She  realizes  what  she  is  saying  and  looks  at 
Virginia,  unseen  by  Jimmie;  rises,  goes  up-stage 
Virginia  exits  off  r.  u.    There  is  a  pause) 

Jim.    That  what? 

Fanny.    Nothing.     {Sits  in  armchair  r.  c.) 

Jim.    You  needn't  worry,  anyway.    I  just  can't 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  63 

stand  the  stuff.  Give  me  three  drinks  and  next 
morning  my  head's  full  of  Roman  candles.  Huh! 
Not  for  mine,  thank  you ! 

Fanny.    And  I'm  glad  of  it. 

Jim.  {Crosses  to  c.)  Gee,  but  I'd  like  to  be 
here  when  he  comes  in.    I  wonder  what  he'll  say  ? 

Fanny.    He  won't  remember  anything  about  it. 

Jim.  Oh,  that's  the  kind,  is  it — one  of  those 
convenient,  witness-stand-I-have-no-recollect  things, 
eh  ?  Well,  you  take  it  from  me  that's  the  best  kind 
to  have.  You  can  agree  to  any  old  thing  and  not 
remember  it.  You  can  make  all  kinds  of  promises 
and  then  forget  'em.    You  can — say 

Fanny,    What?    (Seated  r.  c.) 

Jim.  (c.)  Good  Lord,  suppose  he  shoud  for- 
get about  my  raise? 

Fanny.  Robert  won't  forget  about  that.  (Cross- 
ing to  lower  end  of  sofa  R. — looks  at  clock  on 
mantel) 

Jim.  You  can  just  bet  he  won't  while  I  have 
the  power  of  speech.  He  won't  come  that  I-can't- 
recall  gag  on  me. 

Fanny.    (Sits)    Of  course  not. 

Jim,  (Turns  chair  l.  c.  and  sits  facing 
Fanny)  I'd  calculated  exactly  what  I'd  do  with 
that  extra  fifty.  I  reckoned  that  after  we'd  paid  the 
chauffeur  and  for  the  gasoline  and  things,  we'd 
have  about  twenty  left,  so  I  figured  we'd  be  able  to 
leave  a  Hundred  and  Fortieth  street  and  move  down- 
town to  a  Hundred  and  Twenty-fifth.  Then  I'd 
pictured  old  McLaughlin's  face  when  he  heard  I'd 
got  another  raise,  and  what  he'd  look  like  every 
morning  when  I  drove  to  the  office  in  my  own  car. 
And  I'd  picked  out  the  places  we'd  go  to  for  the 
next  four  Sundays,  yes,  and  a  lot  of  other  things, 
too. 

Fanny.    How  did  you  find  the  time  ? 

Jim.  (Crossing  to  c,  about  chair  r.  c.)  I  had 
plenty  of  time  last  night  after  we  went  to  bed  and 


64  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

you  kept  me  awake  by  doing  your  grand  combined 
kicking  and  contortion  act.  You  take  it  from  me, 
every  time  you  get  one  of  your  restless  fits,  you 
smash  all  world's  records  for  landing  sudden  and 
violent  kicks  in  unexpected  places. 

Fanny.  Can  I  help  it  if  I'm  a  little  nervous  once 
in  a  while?    {Goes  upstage) 

Jim.  {To  c.)  Of  course  not,  and  I  don't  blame 
you  for  it,  (Fanny  upstage)  but  that  doesn't  give 
me  back  my  sleep,  does  it?  (Jim  looks  at  watch) 
I've  got  to  skip.  I'll  be  a  bit  late  as  it  is,  and  Mc- 
Laughlin's sure  to  be  there  waiting  for  me  with  a 
few  pleasant  words.  {Back  of  sofa  r.)  Good-bye, 
dear.  {Kisses  Fanny)  Get  home  early  so  as  to 
be  sure  the  dinner's  all  right,  won't  you? 

Fanny.    Yes. 

Jim.  {Crossing  to  c.)  If  it's  O.  K.  about  the 
car,  have  Virginia's  chauffeur  drive  you  home  and 
leave  it  in  front  of  the  building  where  the  neighbors 
can  get  a  peek  at  it.  I'll  arrange  about  the  garage 
when  I  get  back. 

Fanny.     {Crossing  to  Jim  c.)    Very  well. 

Jim.  Then  good-bye.  {Kisses  Fanny  again  and 
goes  to  exit  l.  i  e.)  If  we  don't  get  that  machine 
now  after  it  being  promised  to  us  and  after  all  the 
figuring  I've  done  on  it,  it'll  be  hell — that's  what 
it'll  be — just  hell.    (Jim  exits  l.  i  e.) 

Fanny.  {Calls)  Virgie — Virgie!  (Virginia 
enters)  I  didn't  mean  what  I  said  about  leaving 
him. 

Virginia.    Didn't  you? 

Fanny.  No,  honest,  I  didn't.  I  don't  think  I 
could  leave  him,  no  matter  what  he  did.  I  love  him, 
and  you  love  Robert,  don't  you  ? 

Virginia.    Yes. 

Fanny.  Well,  a  woman  couldn't  deliberately 
leave  the  man  she  loves,  could  she?  {Pause) 
Could  she  ? 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  65 

Virginia.  I  think  a  woman  might — and  be  justi- 
field  in  it. 

Fanny.    Even  if  she  loved  him? 

Virginia.    No  matter  how  much  she  loved  him, 

{There  is  a  knock  at  door,  then  Josephine  en- 
ters  with  various  jewel-cases — Virginia  is  R., 
Fanny  l.  of  table  l.  c. — sits.) 

Josephine.  These  are  all  but  the  ruby  cross, 
Madame.  That  is  at  the  jeweler's.  John  showed 
me  the  receipt  for  it. 

Virginia.    I  remember. 

(Josephine  places  the  jewels  on  table  l.  c.  as  she 
did  the  others.) 

Fanny.  (Crosses  to  table  l.  c.  front)  Aren't 
they  beautiful.    Which  is  your  favorite? 

Virginia.    The  pearls. 

Fanny.  (Examining  the  jewels)  They  must 
have  cost  a  fortune.  This  is  the  first  time  I've  seen 
them  together.    They're  simply  great. 

Josephine.  (Crossing  back  of  table  l.  c.  to 
upper  c.)    Shall  you  go  out  this  morning,  Madame  ? 

Virginia.    Probably. 

Josephine.    What  furs  shall  I  get,  Madame? 

Virginia.  None.  Bring  my  cloth  coat  and  the 
hat  that  goes  with  it. 

Josephine.    Yes,  Madame.    (Exits  r.  3) 

Fanny.  If  those  were  mine  I'd  have  them  out 
and  count  'em  up  every  day.  They'd  have  no  chance 
to  get  away  from  me.  (Looks  at  jewels  again, 
crossing  back  to  table  l.  c.)  My,  but  they're  stun- 
ning.   Robert's  very  good  to  you,  isn't  he? 

Virginia.    Very. 

Fanny.  (Picks  up  one  of  the  jewels)  This  was 
his  first  present.    (Sits  l.  of  table  l.  c.) 


66  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Virginia.  {Crosses  to  chair  r.  of  table  L.  c)' 
yes. 

Fanny.  Do  you  remember  how  scared  we  both 
were  that  somebody  might  break  into  the  room  and 
steal  it  and  how  we  used  to  hide  it  under  the 
mattress  every  night  and  take  it  out  again  when  we 
got  up? 

Virginia.    I  remember. 

Fanny.  And  the  morning  we  were  in  a  hurry 
and  forgot  it  until  we  were  on  the  car!  I  can  see 
you  now  reaching  for  the  bell  and  then  getting  off 
the  wrong  way,  and  how  you  did  run!  If  you  had 
gone  in  the  ladies*  race  at  the  Shipping  Clerk's  An- 
nual Picnic  and  had  run  as  fast  as  that,  you'd  have 
won  the  genuine  tortoise  shell  side  combs,  sure ! 

Virginia.  I  suppose  I  was  excited.  It  was  the 
first  piece  of  real  jewelry  I  had  ever  owned ! 

Fanny.  {Putting  jewels  down)  And  now  see 
what  you've  got. 

Virginia.    Yes. 

Fanny.  {Picks  up  another)  This  was  his  wed- 
ding present!  I  remember  you  tried  it  on  at  least 
fifty  times  the  first  night  you  had  it !  I  did  the  same 
with  Jimmie's.  It  was  a  horseshoe — that  big — 
of  near-diamonds — I  never  wear  it  now,  but  I 
wouldn't  part  with  it  for  the  world ! 

Virginia.  Jimmie's  a  pretty  good  husband,  isn't 
he? 

Fanny.  {Crossing  hack  of  Virginia  to  c,  hack 
of  Virginia's  chair  smoothing  her  hair)  Yes,  he's 
stubborn  at  times — and  cranky — and  selfish — and 
wants  everything  his  own  way,  but  he's  pretty  good 
as  husbands  go.    And  then — we've  got  the  baby. 

Josephine.  {Re-enters  with  coat  and  hat  which 
she  puts  down  on  dressing-tahle  chair  up  c.)  Any- 
thing else,  Madame? 

Virginia.    No,  Josephine,  you  needn't  wait. 

Josephine.    Yes,  Madame.     {Exits  l.  i  e.) 

Fanny.    {To  r.)    Josie's  a  nice  girl. 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  ^7 

(Goes  to  armchair — sits  in  chair  r.  c. — ^Virginia 
rises.    Stafford  coughs  off  stage.) 

Virginia.  {Crosses  to  r.)  Yes,  and  a  good 
maid,  too. 

Stafford.     {Enters  l.  c.)    Good-morning! 

Virginia.    Good-morning. 

Fanny.    Good-morning,  Robert, 

Stafford.    {Toe.)    Has  Jimmie  gone  ? 

Fanny.  Yes !  He  was  a  little  bit  worried  though 
because 

Stafford.    Worried — why  ? 

Fanny.    Oh,  nothing — nothing! 

Stafford.    Why  was  he  worried — ^tell  me. 

Fanny.  Well,  he  was  afraid  you  might  forget 
your  promises. 

Stafford.    Promises  ? 

Fanny.    Those  you  made  last  night. 

Stafford.    Those — oh,  yes — ^yes. 

Fanny.    If  you  didn't  really  mean  them 

Stafford.  But  I  did;  most  certainly  I  did. 
(Pause)  I  meant  everything  I  said — ^but  I  don't 
quite  remember  what  it  was. 

Virginia.  Part  of  it  was  a  car  which  you 
promised  to  send  to-day  as  a  present  for  little 
Virgie. 

Stafford.  Of  course.  She's  been  looking 
rather  pale,  I  thought,  and  I  wanted  her  to  get  out 
in  the  open  air  more.  Fine!  I'll  arrange  about  it 
before  I  leave! 

Fanny.  And  you  raised  James*  salary  fifty  dol- 
lars a  week. 

Stafford.  Naturally!  Naturally!  To  pay  for 
the  chauffeur  and  the  upkeep ;  if  I  increase  Jimmie's 
expenses,  it's  only  fair  that  I  should  fix  his  salary 
so  that  he  can  meet  them. 

Fanny.  {A  step  nearer  to  Stafford)  Then, 
you  did  mean  it,  really?     It  wasn't  only  a — a — I 


68  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

mean  you  didn't  do  it  just  because  you  were — ^yoti 
were — ^well,  did  you? 

Stafford.  I  made  up  my  mind  about  it  early  in 
the  week,  but  I  told  you  a  little  sooner  than  I  ex- 
pected— ^that's  all. 

Fanny.  Oh,  Robert,  it's  just  lovely  of  you  I 
[You  don't  know  how  much  we  shall  enjoy  it. 

Stafford.  Is  that  all  I  promised?  I  didn't 
agree  to  make  Jim  superintendent  or  anything? 

Fanny.    No,  that  was  all.    It  was  enough,  too. 

Stafford.    Good.    (To  Virginia)    Dearie? 

Virginia.    Yes. 

Stafford.  Do  you  mind  'phoning  for  Oku  to 
bring  some  ice  water? 

Virginia.  Not  at  all.  (Goes  to  *  phone  l.  on  wall 
above  door  l.  i)  Hello.  Have  Oku  bring  some 
ice  water. 

Stafford.  (Leaning  on  chair)  I've  got  a  terri- 
ble headache.  The  man  who  drinks  too  much  is  a 
fool.  (  To  Virginia  who  stands  at  chair  l.  of  table 
L.  c.)  You  don't  have  to  say  anything,  I  know  you 
agree  with  me.  And  quite  right,  too.  I'm  ashamed 
of  myself. 

Fanny.  (Crossing  to  end  of  sofa  r.)  I — I 
think  m  go. 

Stafford.  Don't.  Please  stay  awhile  and  give 
us  your  moral  support.  (He  looks  at  Virginia) 
I  feel  that  I'm  going  to  need  it.  (There  is  a  knock 
at  door  l.  i ) 

Virginia.    (By  dressing-table)    Come. 

(Oku  enters  l.  i  with  pitcher  of  ice  water  and 
glasses.    Soft  auto  horn  off  l.  u.    Stafford 

L.  C.) 

Oku.  Excuse,  please.  (Fills  a  glass  and  offers 
it  to  Virginia,  who  declines.  He  then  offers  it  to 
Fanny,  who  declines) 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  69 

Stafford.  Not  them — me!  (Drinks/ then  hands 
glass  to  Oku  who  places  it  on  tray) 

Oku.    Anything  else  ? 

Stafford.  No.  Tell  Roger  to  stop  blowing  that 
horn. 

Oku.  Then,  excuse,  please — excuse !  (Picks  up 
tray  and  starts  to  go) 

Stafford.  Here — Wait.  (Oku  stops—SrAF- 
FORD  pantomimes  for  him  to  put  the  tray  and  ice 
water  on  the  table  again  l.  c.) 

Oku.    You  want? 

Stafford.    Yes. 

Oku.     (Places  tray  on  table)     Anything  else? 

(Horn  off  l.  u.) 

Stafford.    No. 

Oku.    Then,  excuse,  please,  excuse.    (Exits  "L.  l) 

(Fanny  goes  up  to  Virginia,  at  dressing-room,  c.) 

Stafford.  (Crosses  to  table  l.  c.)  Well, 
dear ? 

Fanny.     (Crossing  to  c.)    Now  I — I  must  go. 

Stafford.  (At  table  l.  c.)  Please.  (Leans  on 
chair) 

Fanny.     (Crossing  to  door  l.  i)  But  the  baby — 

Stafford.  Oh,  come !  Don't  desert  a  comrade 
in  distress. 

Fanny.  But  she  might  need  me,  really  she 
might.    So — excuse  me.     (Exits  l.  i) 

(There  is  a  pause.) 

Stafford.  Dearie,  before  you  say  a  word  I  want 
to  tell  you  that  I'm  sorry  for  the  condition  I  was  in 
when  I  came  home.    Dreadfully  sorry  and  ashamed. 

Virginia.  (Above  chair  r.  c.)  Do  you  know 
what  you  said  to  me  last  night  ? 


70  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Stafford.  Sweetheart,  I  was  drunk  last  night 
and  I'm  sorry — and  I'm  ashamed — and  I  apologize. 
And  I've  got  a  dreadful  head  this  morning,  and  I'm 
as  nervous  as  I  can  be.  So  don't  bother  me  any 
more  than  you  have  to,  will  you,  dearie?  Be  nice 
to  me  this  morning.  Come  on,  now,  dearie,  be  nice 
to  me.     {Crosses  to  front  of  table  and  back) 

Virginia,  (c.)  Last  night  you  said  that  you 
bought  and  paid  for  me 

Stafford.  But  I've  explained,  haven't  I?  And 
I've  said  that  I'm  ashamed  and  I've  apologized. 
Can  I  do  any  more  ?  And  you  don't  know  how  ner- 
vous I  am  to-day — nor  how  I  feel.  I  can't  stand 
these  rackets  like  I  used  to.  Be  a  dear,  good,  sweet, 
little  girl  and  don't  scold  me.    Please  dearie,  please! 

Virginia.  You  said  that  you  bought  and  paid 
for  me 

Stafford.    But,  sweetheart 

Virginia.  It  isn't  the  first  time  you  have  said  it, 
either.  And  the  dreadful  thing  about  it  is — that  it's 
true. 

Stafford.    But  it  isn't  true. 

Virginia.  (Turning  from  him)  If  you  hadn't 
been  rich  I  should  not  have  married  you,  because  I 
didn't  feel  toward  you — then — as  a  girl  should  feel 
towards  the  man  she  is  to  marry. 

Stafford.    Virginia ! 

Virginia.  You  know  it,  and  last  night  you  told 
me  of  it. 

Stafford.    But  last  night 

Virginia.  And  so  the  fact  remains  that  you  did 
buy  me  and — those  are  the  things  you  bought  me 
with — (Indicating  the  room — crosses  to  table  L.  c.) 
Those  are  the  things  you  bought  me  with 

Stafford.    Virginia ! 

Virginia.  (Crossing  down  in  front  of  table  L. 
c.)  You  bought  me,  but  you  didn't  buy  my  self-re- 
spect. And  no  matter  what  happens.  I  am  going  to 
keep  that. 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  71 

Stafford.  It's  the  last  thing  in  the  world  I'd 
have  you  lose. 

Virginia.  Then  why  do  you  try  to  rob  me  of  it? 
Why  do  you  come  to  me — as  you  did  last  night — 
and  insult  and  degrade  me  ? 

Stafford.    I'm  sorry,  dear. 

Virginia.  So  you  have  told  me  before,  and  I've 
cried — and  suffered — and  forgiven  you — and  prayed 
that  it  would  never  happen  again.  And  now,  dear, 
I'm  not  going  to  cry  any  more,  and  it  won't  happen 
again. 

Stafford.    You  mean  ? 

Virginia.  (Sits  in  chair  r.  c.)  I  mean  that  we 
have  got  to  have  a  definite  and  explicit  understand- 
ing. I  refuse  to  remain  in  a  position  where  you  can 
humiliate  me  as  you  have  done.  What  must  I  think 
of  myself  if  I  do  ?  I  ask  you,  Robert,  what  must  I 
think  of  myself?  (Pause)  A  good  woman  must 
retain  her  respect  for  herself — she  must  know  in 
her  heart  that  she  is  sweet  and  fine — if  she  doesn't — ■ 
(Pause)  what  is  there  left  for  her?  There  are  just 
two  ways  in  which  I  can  keep  my  respect — and  I 
am  going  to  keep  it — two  and  only  two.  One  is 
this — ^you  must  promise  me  now,  that  you  will  never 
drink  again. 

Stafford.  I'm  not  sure  that  I  could  keep  such  a 
promise.    I'll  agree,  though,  to  try.     (Sits  l.  table) 

Virginia.  No,  dear ;  that  won't  do.  How  many 
times  already  have  you  agreed  to  try  and  how  many 
times  have  you  failed?  You  can  stop  if  you  wish. 
You  are  not  a  weakling.  You're  a  big  man,  a 
strong  man.  You  can  stop  if  you  wish  and  you 
must  promise  me  that  you  will  or 

Stafford.    Or  what  ? 

Virginia.  Or  I  shall  take  the  only  other  course 
open  to  me  and — leave  you. 

Stafford.    Leave  me! 

Virginia.    Yes.     (There  is  a  pause) 

Stafford.     (Rises)     Let  me  get  this  straight: 


73  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

You  say  I  must  promise  that  I  will  never  take  ta» 
other  drink  or  you'll  leave  me.    Is  that  it  ? 

Virginia.    Yes. 

Stafford.    Your  mind  is  made  up? 

Virginia.    Yes. 

Stafford.    Then  it's  an  ultimatum. 

Virginia.    Yes. 

Stafford.  And  you  want  an  answer  here  and 
now? 

Virginia.    Yes. 

Stafford.  Very  well,  then,  you  shall  have  it.  I 
won't  promise. 

Virginia.    (Rises)    Robert! 

Stafford.  I  can't  be  driven  and  I  won't  be 
bullied.  No  man,  by  holding  a  revolver  to  my  head, 
can  force  me  to  do  anything  I  don't  want  to  do,  nor 
can  any  woman  either,  not  even  you. 

Virginia.    Very  well.     (Goes  to  r.  c.) 

Stafford.  (To  l.  c.)  Besides,  there  has  to  be 
a  head  of  every  family,  just  as  there  has  to  be  a  head 
of  every  business,  and  so  long  as  I  have  any  family, 
I  am  going  to  be  the  head  of  it.  If  I  had  a  partner 
and  he  came  to  me  and  said,"  do  this  thing  or  I 
quit  you,"  whether  the  thing  was  right  or  wrong, 
I'd  say  "  Go  ahead,  quit."  Because  if  I  didn't,  from 
that  moment  on,  he,  not  I,  would  be  the  boss.  So  it 
is  with  us ! 

Virginia.    Then  I — am  to — ^go  ? 

Stafford.  That  is  for  you  to  say.  But  if  you  do 
go,  remember  that  it  is  of  your  own  volition.  I  want 
you  to  stay ! 

Virginia.    Yes  ? 

Stafford.  One  thing  is  certain.  You  can't  think 
very  much  of  me,  or  you  couldn't  even  think  of  leav- 
ing me  like  this. 

Virginia.  It  is  because  I  do  love  you  that  I  must 
leave  you.  You  don't  understand  that  now,  but,  oh, 
how  I  hope  that  some  day  you  will.  (Pause) 
vood-bye  1 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  73 

Stafford.    Just  a  minute,  dear. 

Virginia.    (Stops)    Well  ? 

Stafford.  (Crossing  up  to  Virginia)  You  are 
doing  a  very  foolish  thing. 

Virginia.    I'm  doing  the  right  thing. 

Stafford.  I  don't  think  so.  Aside  from  marry- 
ing her  husband,  leaving  him  is  the  most  serious 
step  a  woman  can  take.  Serious  steps  should  be 
given  great  consideration. 

Virginia.    I  have  considered  this. 

Stafford.    But  not  enough. 

Virginia.    Oh,  yes,  I  have. 

Stafford.  In  the  first  place  you  know  that  since 
you  came  into  my  life  I  haven't  given  any  other  wo- 
man even  a  thought.    You  know  that,  don't  you? 

Virginia.    Yes. 

Stafford.    Absolutely. 

Virginia.    Absolutely. 

Stafford.  In  the  next  place,  you  are  leaving  me 
— I  am  not  leaving  you.  My  home  is  still  open  to 
you  and  I  want  you  for  my  wife.  Of  course,  under 
any  circumstances  I  shall  see  you  are  well  provided 
for. 

Virginia.     (Crosses  to  r.)     Oh,  no! 

Stafford.  You  mean  that  you  wouldn't  take  an 
allowance  ? 

Virginia.  (Turning  to  him)  Yes.  I  came  to 
you  with  nothing — that  is  what  I'll  take  away. 

Stafford.  Now,  do  be  a  sensible  little  woman. 
If  you  won't  take  anything  from  me,  where  are  you 
to  go,  what  are  you  to  do  ? 

Virginia.  You  seem  to  forget  that  I  managed 
to  live  before  I  met  you. 

Stafford.    You  would  try  to  do  as  you  did  then  ? 

Virginia.    Why  not? 

Stafford.  Because  it's  impossible — absolutely 
impossible. 

Virginia.    I  don't  think  so, 

Stafford.     Come,   now,   dearie;  get  all   such 


74  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

foolish  thoughts  out  of  your  head.     The  idea  is 
absurd,  ridiculous. 

Virginia.    Why  ? 

Stafford.  Among  other  reasons  is  the  fact  that 
I  wouldn't  let  you. 

Virginia.  How  can  you  prevent  me?  You  can't 
keep  me  a  prisoner  here  and  you  can't  force  me  to 
take  your  money,  unless  I  wish  to  take  it.  {There 
is  a  pause)    You  see  ? 

Stafford.  The  idea  is  preposterous,  I  tell  you. 
You  couldn't  voluntarily  go  back  and  live  as  you 
did  before.    It  isn't  in  human  nature. 

Virginia.    I  can  try. 

Stafford.  And  if  you  do,  you'll  fail.  And  I'll 
tell  you  why — when  we  met  you  were  earning  ten 
or  twelve  dollars  a  week 

Virginia.    Ten, 

Stafford.  On  that  you  had  to  live  and  provide 
yourself  with  everything.  You  had  a  little  room  in 
Harlem  and  used  to  hang  onto  a  strap  every  morn- 
ing and  night  when  you  went  to  and  from  your 
work. 

Virginia.    Yes. 

Stafford.  And  now  you've  had  the  touring  car 
in  the  summer  and  the  limousine  in  the  winter; 
when  the  weather  was  cold  you  had  your  furs, 
when  it  was  warm,  you  had  the  yacht.  Since  we 
were  married  you  have  had  every  luxury  that 
money  could  give  and  luxury  gets  in  the  blood,  my 
dear,  luxury  gets  in  the  blood!  It's  got  into  mine. 
Could  I,  of  my  own  free  will,  go  back  and  live  as  I 
used  to  live  and  be  satisfied.  Certainly  not!  No 
more  can  you ! 

Virginia,    I  can  try. 

Stafford.  Don't  try.  Please  don't.  You're  a 
dear,  little,  fine,  sensitive,  high-minded  woman,  but 
you  weren't  made  to  fight  against  such  odds,  and  if 
you  try  it,  you'll  fail.     It's  inevitable. 

Virginia.    Just  the  same,  I'm  going  to  try  it 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  75 

Stafford.  Then  mark  my  words:  you'll  either 
send  for  me  or  you'll  come  back  to  me. 

Virginia.    I  won't,  I  tell  you ! 

Stafford.    That's  what  you  think  now. 

Virginia.  And  it's  what  I  shall  always  think. 
Send  for  you,  after  last  night !  Come  back  to  you 
and  these  same  conditions — never — never! 

Stafford.  Listen  to  me  for  just  a  minute,  dear. 
You  don't  realize  what  you  are  undertaking.  You 
don't  know  what  you  propose  to  do.  Please,  please, 
don't  do  anything  that  is  going  to  bring  you  so  much 
misery  and  unhappiness.  Think  it  over  a  little 
while  and  then,  perhaps 

Virginia.  My  mind  is  made  up.  (Goes  up  to 
dressing-table,  picks  up  hat  and  puts  it  on) 

Stafford.    Dearie ! 

Virginia.    It  is,  I  tell  you.     (Puts  on  coat) 

Stafford.  Don't  do  it,  Virginia,  I  beg  of  you. 
For,  remember,  if  you  leave  me  like  this  you  will 
have  to  come  to  me,  or  it  will  be  forever. 

Virginia.  Then  it  will  be  forever.  I  won't  be 
degraded  and  humiliated.  I  won't  be  told  that  I 
was  bought  and  paid  for.  You've  been  able  to  say 
it  up  to  now,  but  you'll  never  be  able  to  say  it  again. 
(Crosses — indicates  the  jewels)  There  they  are — 
I  give  them  all  back  to  you.  (As  her  hands  poitits 
to  jewels,  she  notices  rings)  Ha!  I'd  almost  for- 
gotten these !  (She  takes  off  her  rings  and  puts  them 
on  the  table;  her  wedding  ring  remains  on  her 
finger.  She  looks  from  the  ring  to  Stafford  and 
makes  as  if  to  remove  it) 

Stafford.    (Protesting)    Dear! 

Virginia.  Why  not?  Since  it  is  to  be  forever — 
why  not  ?  (Takes  off  the  wedding  ring,  places  it  on 
the  table  and  exits  l.  i — there  is  a  pause) 

(Stafford  goes  to  table,  picks  up  ring  and  reads  the 
inscription.) 


^ 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 


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BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  rj 

Stafford.  (Softly,  to  himself)  "  From  Robert 
to  Virginia  with  Eternal  Love."  (Slight  pause) 
**  With  eternal  love."  (Ptits  the  ring  on  the  table 
and  stands  for  a  short  time  as  if  in  deep  thought. 
Then  he  goes  to  the  telephone  desk  r.)  Hello — 
give  me  Madison  674.  Hurry — Hurry — Is  this 
Burley's  Detective  Agency?  Is  Mr.  Burley  there? 
Oh,  is  that  you,  Burley?  This  is  Robert  Stafford. 
I  want  the  best  man  you  have  to  meet  me  at  my 
office  in  half  an  hour.  Your  very  best.  What !  No, 
no !  I  don't  want  him  to  watch  anyone — I  want  him 
to  protect  someone!  In  half  an  hour,  remember! 
(Replaces  telephone  on  desk,  remains  seated,  looks 
at  ring — softly)    "  With  eternal  love." 

CURTAIN  FALLS. 


ACT  IV. 

Scene: — Dining-room  in  the  Gilleys*  flat.  The 
exits  are  l.  to  kitchen;  c.  to  hall;  r.  to  living' 
room. 

Time: — Evening   of  a   day  nearly   three  months 
later  than  Act  III. 

{The  curtain  rises  on  an  empty  stage.  There  is 
a  slight  pause,  then  door-bell  rings  back. 
Another  slight  pause.  Door-bell  rings  again. 
Fanny  enters  l.  She  wears  an  apron  and 
looks  as  though  she  has  been  working  in  the 
kitchen.  She  starts  toward  door  back  c,  then 
stops,  takes  off  her  apron  and  throws  it  over 
a  chair,  up  l.  The  door-bell  rings,  again,, 
Fanny  exits  c.    There  is  a  slight  pause.) 

Fanny.     (Off-stage  r.)    Oh,  it's  you,  is  it^ 


78  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Jim.    (Off-stage)    Yes :  it*s  me. 

Fanny.     (Off-stage)     Well,  I  like  your  nerve, 

(Re-enters  follozved  by  Jimmie  zvho  wears  a  heavy 
overcoat  and  is  dressed  as  though  to  meet  the 
rigors  of  a  cold  winter's  night.) 

Jim.  Gee,  but  it's  a  tough  night  all  right !  ( Takes 
off  overcoat,  muffler,  etc.  Places  them  on  chair  R. 
of  table  c,  and  lunch-box  on  table  at  front) 

Fanny.  (Crosses  to  baby  carriage,  folds  blanket 
and  arranges  cushions)  Did  that  make  you  ring 
the  bell  and  take  me  away  from  my  work?  Don't 
you  think  I've  got  enough  to  do  running  this  flat 
and  cooking  for  three  people  and  looking  after  a 
baby  without  having  to  go  and  open  the  door  for 
you !    Why  didn't  you  open  it  yourself  ? 

Jim.    W^ell,  if  you  must  know,  I've  lost  my  key. 

Fanny.    Lost  your  key  ? 

Jim.    Yes. 

Fanny.  Don't  you  know  that  keys  cost  twenty- 
five  cents  apiece? 

Jim.    Sure  I  do. 

Fanny.  Well,  you  want  to  remember  that  every 
quarter — yes,  and  every  nickel — counts  these  days. 
You're  not  working  for  Mr.  Stafford  at  a  hundred 
a  week  now!  You're  a  shipping  clerk  getting 
thirteen  per — not  even  fourteen — thirteen! 

Jim.    You  needn't  rub  it  in. 

Fanny.    (Down  to  L.  c.)    Hand  it  over. 

Jim.    What? 

Fanny.  (Nearer  to  Jim)  The  thirteen!  This 
is  pay  day.    Come  on — come  on — come  on ! 

(Jim  hands  his  money  to  Fanny  who  counts  it 
carefully.) 

Jim.    Don't  I  get  any  ? 

Fanny.    Yes.    You  get  carfare  and  cigar  money 


SOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  ^^ 

— twenty  cents  a  day — and  you  get  it  each  day. 
(Puts  on  apron,  then  goes  down  l.  c.  ) 

Jim.  (Sits  .r  of  table)  Can't  I  even  have  lunch 
money  ? 

Fanny.  Won't  you  ever  get  it  into  your  head 
that  I'm  running  this  flat  on  eighteen  dollars  a  week, 
thirteen  from  you  and  five  from  Virginia!  Lunch 
money !     You're  lucky  even  to  get  lunch. 

Jim.  I'm  getting  tired  of  nothing  but  dry  sand- 
wiches and  dill  pickles. 

Fanny.  What  do  you  expect  for  thirteen  per — 
terrapin  or  pate  de  fois  gras — getting  tired  of — 
(Sees  the  lunch-box  on  table,  down  to  rocker  l.) 
What's  that? 

Jim.  (Picks  up  the  lunch-box  and  pretends  to 
examine  it  critically)  I  think  it's  a  bunch  of  lillies 
of  the  valley. 

Fanny.  I  know  it's  your  lunch-box,  all  right, 
but  what's  it  doing  on  the  table.  Put  it  in  the 
drawer  where  it  belongs.  (Jim  hesitates)  Go  on 
now.  I've  got  enough  to  do  without  putting  things 
away  after  you.  (Jim  puts  the  lunch-box  in  the 
drawer  of  sideboard  R.)  Now  hang  them  up  in  the 
hall. 

(Fanny  points  to  Jim's  clothes — he  picks  them  up 
and  exits  c.  to  l.  Fanny  takes  a  key  from 
under  an  ornament,  opens  another  drazver  in 
the  sideboard,  puts  the  money  in  it,  locks  the 
drawer  and  replaces  the  key.  Jim  re-enters. 
He  lights  a  cheap  cigar  and  puffs  away  at  it, 
with  evident  disfavor.  Fanny  puts  the  cloth 
on  table,  dozvn.  There  is  a  pause.) 
on  table.    There  is  a  pause.) 

Jim.  It's  no  good.  I  can't  get  used  to  these 
damned,  cheap  things.  (Looks  at  cigar)  I  suppose 
I'd  be  satisfied  with  'em  if  I'd  never  smoked  real 
cigars — but  to  be  educated  up  to  Villa  de  Villas  and 


8o  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

then  drop  to  them — ^punkerinos — (Throws  cigar  on 
floor) 

Fanny.    Jim,  pick  that  up  and  let  it  die  outside. 

Jim.  (Throws  cigar  out  window — slowly)  Hal 
In  three  months  to  parachute  from  first  class  cafes 
to  carrying  homemade  lunches ;  to  go  from  threes 
for  a  half  to  twos  for  a  nickel;  instead  of  having 
plenty  of  money  to  pocket  to  be  without  even  a  cent 
— I  tell  you,  Fanny,  the  way  we're  living  now  is 
hell.    (^Sits  at  l.  of  table) 

Fanny.  Don't  you  think  I  know  it  better  than 
you  do!  I  used  to  be  able  to  pay  twenty-five  or 
thirty  dollars  for  a  hat ;  now  when  I  want  one  I'll 
have  to  trim  it  myself.  I  could  have  a  taxi  once  in 
a  while.  Now  I'm  lucky  if  I  can  take  a  car.  A  seat 
in  the  orchestra  at  the  matinees  was  none  too  good 
for  me,  now  I  think  it  a  treat  to  go  to  the  moving 
pictures.  I  used  to  have  a  nine-room  apartment  at 
a  hundred  and  fortieth  street.  Now  I've  got  a  five- 
room-flat  at  a  hundred  and  seventy-sixth!  My 
"  friends  "  don't  come  to  see  me  because  I'm  too 
far  uptown.  I  used  to  have  a  servant  to  do  my  work 
and  a  woman  come  in  to  do  my  washing,  now  I 
have  to  do  the  work  and  the  cooking  and  the  wash- 
ing into  the  bargain.  Don't  talk  to  me  about  your 
lunches  and  your  cigars  and  your  pocket  money — 
only  a  woman  can  know  what  it  means  to  come 
down  in  the  world! 

Jim.  I  guess  you're  right,  Fanny,  and  I'm  sorry 
I  spoke.  The  woman  gets  the  worst  of  it  every 
time. 

Fannie.  Every  time,  Jimmie,  whether  she's  right 
or  wrong.    (Lays  the  table  with  spoons,  knives,  etc.) 

Jim.    If  Virginia  hadn't  quit  Stafford,  then ! 

Fanny.    There's  no  use  saying  that — she  did! 

Jim.  Yes,  and  what  day  did  she  pick  out?  The 
very  day  Stafford  raised  me  to  a  hundred  and  fifty 
—Great  Scott,  just  think  of  it!     I  used  to  get  a 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  8i 

hundred  and  fifty — Of  course  I  only  got  it  for  a 
day  and  a  quarter — but  I  got  it ! 

Fanny.  And  whose  fault  was  it  that  you  only 
got  it  for  a  day  and  a  quarter  ? 

Jim.    Mine,  I  suppose? 

Fanny.  You  had  no  right  to  try  to  interfere  be- 
tween Mr.  Stafford  and  Virginia — that  was  their 
business. 

Jim.  So  he  told  me!  And  when  I  said  that  any- 
thing that  concerned  my  wife's  sister  was  my  busi- 
ness and  I  wouldn't  be  associated  with  a  man  who 
didn't  treat  her  right,  and  walked  out,  I  thought 
he'd  send  a  messenger  after  me  before  I  reached  the 
corner.    In  fact,  I  waited  on  the  corner. 

Fanny.    But  the  messenger  didn't  come? 

Jim.  No.  But  even  that  didn't  bother  mic — then! 
I  thought  I'd  soon  get  another  job  just  as  good. 

Fanny.  I  wonder  if  you'll  ever  have  one  "  just 
as  good." 

Jtm.    Of  course  I  will. 

Fanny.    When  ? 

Jim.  (Sits  in  rocker  l.)  I'm  likely  to  get  a  good 
job  most  any  time.  I'm  likely  to  find  a  good  job 
anv  day. 

Fanny.  Well,  till  you  do,  hang  onto  the  one 
you've  got.  (Jim  moves  wneasily)  When  rent  day 
comes,  thirteen  dollars  in  real  money  is  a  heap  sight 
better  than  a  hundred  and  fifty  in  hopes. 

Jim.    (Azvkwardly)    Yes,  I  suppose  so! 

Fanny.    I  know  so. 

Jim.    Besides  one  of  my  ideas  might  turn  out  big! 

Fanny.    Misfht !    Yes. 

Jim.  Oh.  I  know  vou  don't  believe  in  'em  any 
more.  But  let  me  tell  you  this— I've  got  one  idea 
right  now — that  would  make  me  five  hundred  dol- 
lars ju?t  as  easy  as  (Snaps  his  fingers)  that.  Do 
you  hear?  As  easy  as — (Same  bus.)  that!^  (There 
is  a  pattse)    Why  don't  you  ask  me  about  it? 


82  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Fanny.  (Stands  between  sideboard  and  table-^ 
in  resigned  tone)    Well,  what  is  it  ? 

Jim.  That's  a  fine  way  to  ask.  (Imitating 
Fanny's  tone)  *'  What  is  it?  "  You'd  show  more 
interest  than  that  if  I  told  you  Mrs.  Brown's  canary 
had  died  of  the  croup. 

Fanny.  (Crosses  to  Jim  at  chair  L.)  I  didn't 
mean  anything,  Jimmy.    What  is  the  idea? 

Jim.    Oh,  what's  the  use? 

Fanny.    Go  on,  tell  me  I 

Jim.  What's  the  use.  You  wouldn't  think  it  was 
any  good. 

Fanny.  {Turning  from  Jim,  crosses  to  side- 
board R.)  AH  right,  then,  don't  I  I  know  there'd 
be  nothing  in  it  anyway. 

Jim.  (Crosses  to  Fanny  at  sideboard  r.)  Is 
that  so?  Well,  just  to  prove  that  there  is  something 
in  it,  I  will  tell  you.  (There  is  a  pause)  Of  course 
I  shouldn't  really  expect  to  do  it — ^but  the  idea's 
there  just  the  same. 

Fanny.    Well? 

Jim.  (To  table  c.)  You  know  the  fuss  the 
papers  made  about  Stafford's  marrying  Virginia  and 
how  the  Sunday  editions  had  page  after  page  about 
it  with  illustrations 

Fanny.    (Stops  working  and  listens)    Yes. 

Jim.  And  you  know  how  clever  he's  been  in 
keeping  this  from  them  by  sending  out  the  news  th«rt 
she'd  gone  to  Europe  for  the  winter 

Fanny.    Yes. 

Jim.  Well,  if  I  was  to  go  to  one  of  *em  and  tip 
off  the  story  that  instead  of  being  in  Europe,  Vir- 
ginia's been  workin'  in  a  store  in  12th  street  for 
five  dollars  a  week,  and  I  would  agree  not  to  tell  any 
other  paper  about  it,  don't  you  think  I  could  get  five 
hundred  dollars  for  it ?   You  bet  I  could !    (To  r.  c.) 

Fanny.  (To  Jim,  slozvly)  Jimmie,  if  you  did 
anything  like  that,  I'd  never  speak  to  you  again — 
never  1 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  83 

Jim.    I  told  you  I  didn't  expect  to  do  it. 

Fanny.  Whether  I  think  Virginia's  a  fool  or 
whether  I  don't — she'o  my  sister.  Right  or  wrong 
she's  iny  sioter,  and  nobody,  not  even  you,  is  going 
to  do  anything  to  hurt  her  feelings  and  get  away 
with  it  without  a  fight  from  me. 

{This  speech  spoken  above   table  and  then  she 
crosses  to  door) 

Jim.  (Upstage  It.)  I  ain't  going  to  do  anything 
to  hurt  her  feelings !  But  I  must  say  it's  pretty  tough 
on  a  fellow  to  have  all  his  good  ideas  spoiled. 
(Down-stage)  Take  the  one  I  had  about  the  auto. 
I  could  have  sold  it  for  fifteen  hnudred  dollars,  but 
Virginia  wouldn't  let  me  and  made  me  send  it 
back.  There  was  a  great  idea  gone  wrong.  (  There 
is  a  pause)    I've  got  another  one. 

Fanny.    (Crossing  to  door  i..)    Idea? 

Jim.  (Crosses  to  table  c.)  Yes.  And  even  you 
will  think  this  one  all  right. 

Fanny.    What  is  it? 

Jim.  We  must  bring  Virginia  and  Stafford  to- 
gether. 

Fanny.    (Crosses  back  to  Jim  c.)    Jimmie! 

Jim.  You  know  she's  in  love  with  him,  don't 
you? 

Fanny.    Yes. 

Jim.  And  he's  just  crazy  over  her.  He  'phoned 
me  again  to-day  asking  about  her. 

Fanny.    Well. 

Jim.  To  make  two  people  who  are  in  love  forget 
and  forgive,  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  get  them  into 
each  other's  arms — and  that's  the  way  it  would  be 
with  them !  Only  stubbornness  keeps  them  apart 
now — just  stubbornness. 

Fanny.    Yes. 

Jim.  Well,  we  must  get  them  into  each  other's 
arms. 


84  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Fanny.    How? 

Jim.  {Crosses  to  r.)  That's  where  my  idea 
comes  in. 

Fanny.    {Crosses  to  Jim)    Go  on — tell  me. 

Jim.  If  she  sent  for  him  he'd  break  all  speed 
laws  getting  up  here,  and  if  he  came  for  her  of  his 
own  accord — if  she  thought  he  did  that — she'd  be 
in  his  arms  so  quick  she'd  make  a  bounding  antelope 
look  like  a  plumber's  assistant  going  back  for  his 
tools. 

Fanny.    Well? 

Jim.  Suppose  I  'phoned  him — right  now — that 
she  had  sent  for  him? 

Fanny.     'Phoned  him — that  Virginia! 

Jim.  Sure !  He'd  think  she'd  given  in  and  she'd 
think  the  same  of  him.  It  would  be  a  case  of  a  pair 
of  open  arms,  the  rustle  of  a  skirt,  a  little  head  on 
a  manly  chest  and  then  good-bye  John,  farewell 
everything,  and  the  lid  is  off!  I  imagine  that  is 
some  idea? 

Fanny.  Jimmie,  I  think  that's  splendid!  Oh, 
but  if  they  found  out? 

Jim.    What  would  it  matter  if  they'd  made  up? 

Fanny,    But,  do  you  think  it  would  be  right? 

Jim.  Oh,  no!  Certainly  not!  It  would  be  a 
terrible  crime  to  unite  a  husband  and  wife  and  fix 
up  a  broken  home!  To  say  nothing  of  giving  me 
back  my  regular  job  at  a  hundred  and  fifty.  Shall 
I? 

Fanny.    I'm  scared.     {Crossing  to  rocker  l.) 

Jim.  I'm  not.  I'm  never  afraid  of  any  game 
where  I  can't  lose!  {Crosses  c.)  And  if  it  came 
through,  you  know  what  it  would  mean  for  us — 
good  clothes,  good  food,  money  to  spend  and  noth- 
ing to  worry  about  except  moving  down  to  a  hun- 
dred and  twenty-fifth  street! 

Fanny,     {Sits  in  rocker)     I  don't  know, 

Jim.  And  then  you  must  think  of  little  Virgie. 
A  baby  makes  a  lot  of  difference. 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  85 

Fanny.  Indeed  it  does.  I  bet  Virginia  would 
never  have  left  Stafford  if  they  had  had  a  baby. 

Jim.    Shall  I  do  it  ? 

Fanny.    I'm  scared.    I  am — ^honest  I  am! 

Jim.  Oh,  go  on!  Be  game!  Besides,  we  have 
everything  to  win  and  nothing  to  lose,  and  for  a 
gamble  you  can't  beat  that ! 

Fanny.    But,  Jimmy ! 

Jim.  Virginia's  likely  to  be  back  any  minute 
now  and  if  we're  going  to  put  it  through  we  must 
do  it  quick.    Shall  I?    Shall  I? 

Fanny.  Well,  I — why  do  you  push  the  respon- 
sibility onto  me  ?  You're  the  one  to  decide.  You're 
the  head  of  the  house. 

Jim.  Sure  I  am.  I'll  do  it.  {Goes  to  hall  r,  c. 
leaving  door  open) 

Fanny.     (Rising)    Jimmy! 

Jim.    (Turns)    Yes? 

Fanny.    I  don't  think  you'd  better. 

Jim.    But  see  here 

Fanny.    I  don't  think  you'd  better, 

Jim.  I'm  going  to  just  the  same — ^You've  got 
nothing  to  say  about  it.  I'm  the  head  of  this  house. 
(Takes  dozvn  receiver)  Hello — hello — Give  me 
River  2540 — Is  this  River  2540?  Is  Mr.  Stafford 
there?  Please  tell  him  that  Mr.  Gilley  wishes  to 
talk  to  him.  Yes,  his  brother-in-law — Mr.  Gilley! 
Is  that  you  Mr.  Stafford?  This  is  Jimmie!  No, 
not  James — Jimmie !  Virgie  told  me  to  'phone  and 
ask  you  to  come  for  her.  No,  there's  nothing  the 
matter ;  she's  quite  well.  I  guess  she  can't  stand 
being  separated  from  you  any  longer.  All  right. 
I'll  tell  her.  Good-bye.  (Hangs  up  receiver,  closes 
door  c.)    It's  done! 

Fanny,     (l.  end  of  table)     I'm  scared  to  death. 

Jim.  (Down  to  Fanny  r.)  I  ain't.  After  all, 
it  takes  a  man  to  rise  to  the  occasion. 

Fanny.    But  if  it  should  turn  out  wrong? 

Jim.    It's  done  now  and  that's  all  there  is  to  it 


86  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

1*11  bet  by  this  time  Stafford  is  in  his  machine  and 
dashing  up  here  like  mad.  Suppose  he  should  get 
here  before  Virginia? 

Fanny.    That  would  spoil  everything. 

Jim.  (Crosses  to  c.)  It  mightn't — I'd  probably 
get  some  kind  of  an  idea.  Still  I  wish  she'd  come. 
She  ought  to  be  here  by  now.  (Slight  pause)  I 
think  I  heard  her  key  in  the  door.  (Goes  to  door 
back  and  looks  off — Pause)  No!  (Shuts  door, 
comes  down-stage  l.) 

Fanny.    (Crosses  to  c.)    I'm  so  worried. 

Jim.  What  about  ?  I  did  the  'phoning.  If  there's 
any  worrying  to  be  done,  let  Jimmie  do  it ! 

Fanny.     (Crosses  to  r.  c.)     I  wish  you  hadn't. 

Jim.  But  I  have!  Great  Scott,  ain't  that  just 
like  a  woman.  Now  look  here,  Fanny,  you  leave 
this  to  me.  When  Virginia  comes  you  make  your- 
self scarce,  get  busy  in  the  kitchen  or  something, 
and  I'll  talk  to  her.  You'll  see  that  I — There  she 
is.  (Up  to  door  c,  calling)  Come  in  here,  Virgie I 
(To  Fanny)    Be  careful! 

(Virginia  enters  back  from  r.  side  of  hall.  She 
looks  tired  and  somewhat  worn  and  her  clothes 
show  she  has  been  in  the  storm.  She  comes  on, 
carries  an  umbrella  which  is  dripping.) 

Virginia.  Hello,  Jimmie!  Hello,  Fanny!  I'm 
so  tired !    (Sits  r.  of  table) 

Fanny.  Of  course  you  are,  dear.  Sit  still  and 
I'll  take  off  your  things  for  you.  Put  this  umbrella 
in  the  bath  room,  Jimmy. 

Jim.  You  bet  you!  (Takes  umbrella  and  e.xits 
c.  off  L.  Fanny  takes  off  Virginia's  hat  and  coat. 
Jimmie  re-enters  c.) 

Fanny.  Now,  take  off  her  rubbers  and  I'll  put 
these  away — (Taking  her  liat,  coat,  etc. — Fanny 
exits  r.) 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  ^ 

(JiMMiE  kneels  to  Virginia  and  takes  off  her 
rubbers.) 

Jim.    Was  it  a  hard  day  ? 

Virginia.  Very.  The  customers  seemed  partic- 
ularly exasperating.  I  was  on  my  feet  the  entire 
time  and  then  I  had  to  stand  up  all  the  way  home. 

Jim.  That's  tough?  Was  the  same  fellow  on 
the  car? 

Virginia.    Yes. 

Jim.    And  going  downtown? 

Virginia.    Yes. 

Jim.    Did  he  speak  to  you? 

Virginia.    Of  course  not. 

Jim.  {Rising)  Well,  if  he  does,  or  if  he  gets 
fresh  at  all,  you  tell  me  and  I'll  punch  his  head ! 

Virginia.    He  won't. 

Jim.    He'd  better  not. 

Fanny.  {Re-enters  r.,  crossing  to  back  of  table 
C.)  Dinner's  ready  to  put  on,  but  I'll  get  you  a  cup 
of  tea  first.  {Comes  dozvn  to  l.  c,  points  to  rub- 
bers)   The  bath  room,  Jimmie! 

(Jimmie  picks  up  rubbers  and  exits  as  before  C 
and  off  L.) 

Virginia.    You're  very  good  to  me,  Fanny. 

Fanny.  {Crossing  to  Virginia  at  table  c.) 
Don't  be  silly. 

Virginia.     You're  the  best  sister  in  the  world. 

Fanny.  Oh,  no,  I'm  not.  You  are.  (Jimmie 
re-enters  c.)    Now,  for  the  tea.     {Exits  l.) 

Jim.  {Sits  on  chair  back  of  table  c.)  You're 
not  looking  well.  These  last  three  months  have  told 
on  you. 

Virginia.    Yes — I  know  it. 

Jim.  I  guess  you  don't  like  it  any  better  than 
we  do. 

Virginia.    Like  it!    Like  standing  on  my  feet 


88  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

from  morning  till  night  in  a  cheap  little  store  at 
the  beck  and  call  of  any  woman  who  wants  to  buy 
a  spool  of  thread;  like  to  have  two  dollars  a  week 
pocket-money  out  of  which  I  must  pay  my  carfare 
and  buy  whatever  I  need ;  like  to  come  home  every 
night  so  tired  I  can  scarcely  walk  and  with  my  head 
aching  till  I  can  hardly  see ;  like  it — like  it — indeed ! 

Jim.  Then  why  don't  you  quit  it?  Why  don't 
you  go  back  to  your  husband? 

Virginia.    I've  asked  you  not  to 

Jim.  I  know  you  have,  but  to-night  I'm  going  to 
talk  sense  to  you,  if  I  never  do  it  again. 

Virginia.    Jimmie ! 

Jim.  Yes,  I  am.  I  hate  to  see  you  going  on  like 
this — ^you've  been  away  from  Stafford  for  less  than 
three  months  and,  on  the  level,  you  look  five  years 
older.    Why  don't  you  go  back  to  him  ? 

Virginia.  I've  told  you — it's  a  matter  of  prin- 
ciple. You  wouldn't  have  me  give  up  my  principles, 
would  you  ? 

Jim.  I  don't  know  about  yours,  but  I  can  tell  you 
this  about  mine — if  hanging  onto  'em  meant  hard 
work,  tired  bones  and  an  empty  pocket  while  giving 
'em  up  meant  a  fine  house,  a  bully  time  and  all  the 
money  I  could  spend,  then  I'd  kiss  my  principles 
good-bye  and  pass  'em  up  without  a  quiver !  That's 
common  sense! 

Virginia.    We  don't  see  things  the  same  way. 

Jim.  I  never  understood  why  you  quit  him,  any- 
way.    (Rising)    Tell  me — did  he  punch  you? 

Virginia.    Certainly  not. 

Jim.  (Crossing  down  to  Virginia  r.)  Was  he 
mixed  up  with  another  woman  ? 

Virginia.    Another  woman — Robert !    The  idea ! 

Jim.  Well,  if  it  wasn't  one  of  them,  in  heaven's 
name,  what  was  it? 

Virginia.    You  wouldn't  understand. 

Jim.  Perhaps  not,  but  here's  something  I  can 
understand.     Why  did  I  quit  my  job — because  of 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  89 

you.  Who  has  brought  us  down  to  this?  Youl 
Who  makes  Fanny  work  harder  than  any  hired 
girl  in  the  city  ?  You !  Who  has  ruined  my  career? 
You — ^you  and  your  selfishness ! 

Virginia.    My  selfishness? 

Jim.  Just  that !  And  the  things  you  were  going 
to  do  for  little  Virgie!  She  was  going  to  have  a 
governess ;  she  was  going  to  learn  music  and  paint- 
ing, when  she  grew  up;  she  was  going  to  have  a 
horse !  A  horse — ha,  and  the  only  horse  she'll  ever 
have  will  be  a  clothes-horse  I  {Crossing  to  side- 
board R.) 

Virginia.    Please,  Jimmie,  don*t! 

Jim.  Yes,  and  she'll  have  to  do  the  same  as 
Fanny  does,  break  her  back  washing  the  things  to 
put  over  it!  And  why?  Because  you  think  more 
of  your  "  principles  "  than  you  do  of  your  relations ; 
because  you  think  only  of  yourself ;  because  you're 
selfish.     That's  why. 

(Fanny  re-enters  with  tea  cup  in  hand.) 

Virginia.  Stop,  please!  Don't  you  see  how 
nervous  and  tired  I  am ! 

Fanny.  {Comes  down  l.  to  Jimmie)  You  be- 
have yourself — what  have  you  been  saying  to  her, 
anyway  ? 

Jim.  I've  been  telling  her  things  for  her  own 
good!  (Crosses  to  Virginia)  Yes,  and /'m  going 
to  keep  on  telling  her. 

Virginia.  (Rising  and  speaking  with  spirit) 
You're  not ! 

Jim.    Who's  going  to  stop  me  ? 

Virginia.  (As  before)  I  am.  I'm  doing  what 
I  think  is  right,  and  you're  not  going  to  bully  me 
into  doing  what  I  think  is  wrong.  If  you  ever 
mention  my  going  back  to  my  husband  again,  I'll — 
I'll 

Jim.    I  suppose  you'll  leave  us  as  well  <* 


90  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Fanny.  {Crossing  to  back  of  chair  l.  of  table 
C.)    Jimmie! 

Virginia.  {Changing  to  a  weaker  and  tired 
voice)  No,  I  couldn't  do  that.  I've  got  to  have 
someone  to  love.  {To  Fanny)  And  you  know  I 
love  you,  don't  you? 

Fanny.    I  should  say  so! 

Virginia.  {Crossing  to  Fanny)  And  I  love 
the  baby — dearly !  Yes,  and  you  as  well,  Jimmie ! 
Oh,  you  don't  know  how  hard  this  has  been  for  me ! 
You  see,  I've  not  only  had  my  own  sorrows  and 
troubles — and  they've  been  quite  enough  for  any 
woman 1 

Fanny.  Dearie!  (Fanny  back  of  Virginia 
places  cup  of  tea  on  table  beside  her) 

Virginia.  But  I've  had  yours  as  well.  To  know 
Jimmie  lost  his  position  because  of  me;  to  have 
you  come  down  in  the  world  like  this,  because  of 
me.  To  know  Jimmie  is  just  where  he  started — 
{To  Fanny)  To  see  you — breaking  your  back — 
at  the  washing 

Fanny.  Don't  you  worry  about  me;  I'm  all 
right. 

Virginia.  It's  been  dreadfully  hard.  At  times 
I've  felt  that  I  just  couldn't  bear  it — that  I  should— 
have — to  go  back  because  after  all,  I'm  only  human 
— and  I  may  have  to  ?o  back  yet — I  may — (Speak- 
ing courageously)  No,  I  won't  go  back !  I  won't ! 
(Changing  her  tone  and  pleading)  But  please  don't 
talk  about  it  any  more.  I'm  so  tired —  {Sits  L. 
of  table) 

(Jimmie  opens  his  mouth  as  if  to  speak.) 

Fanny.   Oh,  shut  up ! 

Jim.    I  didn't  say  anything. 

Fanny.  No,  but  you  were  going  to !  (Sits — to 
Virginia)  Take  your  tea,  dear ;  before  it  gets  cold. 
{Gives  tea  to  Virginia) 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  91 

Jim.  (Crosses  nearer  table  c.)  I  was  only  going 
to  say — suppose  he  was  to  send  for  her — or  come 
for  her? 

Virginia.  Robert — come  for  me!  There  isn't 
the  slightest  chance  in  the  world! 

Jim.  I  wouldn't  be  so  sure.  He's  crazy  in  love 
with  you ! 

Virginia.  But  not  enough  to  come  for  me.  He 
said  he  would  never  do  it — and  he  never  will. 
That's  the  kind  of  man  he  is! 

Fanny.    Per — perhaps — just  perhaps — ^he  might. 

(Virginia  shakes  her  head.) 
Jim.     {Sits)    But  if  he  should- 


Virginia.  He  won't.  We'll  have  to  go  along  just 
as  we  are !  And  we  might  be  much  worse  off,  don't 
forget  that.  Even  as  it  is,  we're  getting  eighteen 
dollars  a  week  between  us.  I'm  getting  five  and 
Jimmie's  getting  thirteen. 

Jim.    /  was  getting  thirteen. 

Virginia.     They've  raised  you? 

Jim.    No  ;  they've  fired  me. 

Virginia.     Discharged  ? 

Jim.    Yes. 

Fanny.  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  have  lost  your 
job? 

Jim.  Of  course  I  have.  How  could  you  expect 
me  to  keep  it?  Do  you  think  I  could  work  under 
a  man  getting  thirty  dollars  a  week — me,  who  used 
to  get  a  hundred  and  fifty ! 

Fanny.    Fired ! 

Jim.  I  could  see  lots  of  things  wrong  with  the 
system — and  when  I  went  to  give  the  manager  of 
the  department  the  benefit  of  my  advice  and  wide 
experience,  instead  of  taking  it  and  being  thankful 
for  it — he  fired  me — fired  me,  cold.    The  bonehead! 

Virginia.     Now  what  are  you  going  to  do? 

Fanny.    Yes — what  ? 


92  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Jim.  Don't  worry;  everything's  going  to  be  all 
right ! 

Fanny.    But  if  it  shouldn't  be? 

Jim.    It  will.    You  know  about  my  idea ! 

Fanny.    Oh,  you  and  your  idea 

Jim.  I  know  what  you  think  about  'em,  I  know ! 
Gee,  but  ain't  you  women  the  comf ortin'  lot !  {Exits 
angrily  to  kitchen  l.) 

Virginia.  I'm  sorry  you  quarreled.  Don't  blame 
him  too  much,  though.  Things  are  rather  hard  for 
him! 

Fanny.    For  him?   What  about  you ? 

Virginia.    I'll  manage. 

Fanny.    He  had  no  right  to  lose  that  job. 

Virginia.  He'll  soon  find  another.  Till  he  does 
we'll  get  along  some  way.  We've  shared  the  good 
times  together  and  we'll  take  the  hard  ones  the 
same  way. 

Fanny.  My,  but  you  are  thoroughbred.  If  any 
girl  ever  deserved  to  be  happy,  you're  the  one. 

Virginia.    The  same  to  you  and  many  of  them. 

Fanny,  Things  ought  to  turn  for  you  pretty 
soon  and  I  hope  that  they  do.  How  I  hope  they 
do!! 

(Bell  rings  in  hall  off  c.  to  r.) 

Virginia.    I  wonder  who  that  is? 

Fanny.    I'll  go  and  see. 

Virginia.    Very  well.    I'll  lie  down. 

(Fanny  exits  to  hall  r. — Virginia  replaces  her  cup 
on  sideboard  and  then  exits  r.  Stafford  and 
Fanny  enter  from  hall) 

Stafford.    Where  is  she? 
Fanny.    Gone  to  her  room,  probably. 
Stafford.    You're  sure  she's  not  ill? 
Fanny.    Quite  sure. 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  93 

Stafford.    That's  the  truth,  is  it  ? 

Fanny.  Of  course  it  is.  She — she's  a  little  tired, 
that's  all. 

Stafford.  Thank  God  it's  only  that.  Jimmie 
said  there  was  nothing  the  matter  with  her  but  all 
the  time  I  was  coming  up  here,  I  was  thinking  that 
perhaps  suddenly  she — (Pauses  abruptly)  Tell  her, 
please. 

(Fanny  knocks  on  door  R.  2) 

Virginia.     (Off-stage)     Yes? 

Fanny.    It's  someone  to  see  you,  Virgie. 

Virginia.    (Off-stage)    To  see  me? 

Fanny.    Yes. 

Virginia.  (Off-stage)  Very  well.  I'll  be  there 
in  just  a  minute. 

Fanny.  (Crosses  to  Stafford)  Be  very  gentle 
with  her. 

Stafford.    Don't  worry. 

Fanny.    She's  had  a  hard  time. 

Stafford.    So  have  I. 

(Fanny  nods  nnderstandingly  and  exits  to  kitchen. 
There  is  a  pause.  Virginia  enters — sees  Staf- 
ford and  is  almost  incredidous) 

Stafford.    Dear ! 

Virginia.  Robert!  (There  is  a  pause)  You 
did  come — you  did ! 

Stafford.    Of  course  I  did ! 

Virginia.    I'm  so  happy,  dear. 

Stafford.    You're  not  a  bit  happier  than  I  am. 

Virginia.    And  you  came  for  me! 

Stafford.  Of  course,  dear.  Did  you  think  I 
wouldn't  ? 

Virginia.  Yes,  because  I  thought  I  knew  you 
and  understood  you.  But  I  didn't.  I  knew  you  were 
fine  and  big,  but  you  are  finer  and  bigger  than  ever 


94  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

I  imagined  and  I  adore  you  for  it !  Oh,  my  darling, 
you  came  for  me ! 

Stafford.     But,  dear — I — don't 

Virginia.  Sit  down,  sweetheart,  and  let  me  sit 
on  your  knee,  just  as  I  used  to. 

Stafford.  Dear !  ( Takes  off  his  coat,  throws  it 
on  chair  r.  and  sits  on  chair  in  front  of  table.  Vir- 
ginia sits  on  his  knee) 

Virginia.  Now  let  me  snuggle  up  to  you  in  the 
way  I  love.  (Snuggles  to  Stafford)  Now  hold 
me  close,  very,  very  close — and  don't  say  a  word — 
not  even  one.  (Stafford  holds  Virginia  in  his 
arms — there  is  a  pause)  I'm  so  tired,  dear;  I'm 
so  tired! 

Stafford.  My  poor  little  girl !  Come,  dear,  the 
machine  is  outside.    We'll  go  home  at  once. 

Virginia.  Not  yet — please ;  I'm  too  happy. 
(There  is  a  pause)  And  it's  you — it's  really,  really 
you! 

Stafford.    It  really  is. 

Virginia.  I've  hoped  and  longed  and  prayed 
that  you  would  come  for  me  but  I  didn't  think  you 
would.  I  imagined  that  your  pride  wouldn't  let 
you. 

Stafford.    My  pride? 

Virginia.  Yes.  You  said  you  wouldn't  come 
unless  I  sent  for  you. 

Stafford.    Virginia ! 

Virginia.  I'm  not  reproaching  you,  dear.  I 
mention  it  because  it  makes  your  coming  all  the 
bigger  and  finer.  I'm  the  happiest  girl  in  all  the 
world.  You  came  for  me.  Nothing  else  matters. 
(There  is  a  pause — Stafford's  face  shows  that  he 
nozv  fully  realises  the  situation)  If  you  hadn't 
come,  I  should  probably  have  had  to  come  to  you! 
And  that  would  have  robbed  me  of  everything  I've 
been  fighting  for!  But  now  I  shall  know  that  I 
didn't  have  to  do  what  I  knew  to  be  wrong,  and  it 
makes  me  so  happy,  dear !    So  happy,  so  very,  very 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  95 

happy.  (Sobbing  she  kneels  beside  Stafford  and 
covers  her  face  with  her  hands — there  is  a  pause) 

Stafford.  Of  course  I  came  for  you !  If  I  had 
known  all  that  it  meant  to  you,  I  should  have  come 
long  ago. 

Virginia.    Then  you  did  miss  me  ? 

Stafford.  I  can't  tell  you  how  lonely  I  was. 
You  had  Fanny  and  Jimmie  and  the  baby,  and  I 
had  no  one.  As  I  sat  alone  in  the  house,  the  bigness 
of  which  seemed  to  make  it  all  the  lonelier,  I  thought 
of  you  and  your  goodness,  and  sweetness  and  I 
fought  things  out — I  fought  them  out  and  now  I 
can  make  you  any  promise  that  you  ask. 

Virginia.     (Rises)    But  I  don't  ask  any. 

Stafford.  I  give  it  to  you  just  the  same.  I  shall 
never  forgive  myself,  either,  for  letting  you  go. 
But  I'll  make  it  all  up  to  you  now.  Ask  for  any- 
thing you  please  and  you  shall  have  it — to-morrow 
we'll  go  to  Tiffany's  and 

Virginia.  Don't,  dear,  don't !  I  don't  want  you 
to  buy  things  for  me — I  just  want  you  to  love  me, 
dear !    To  love  me,  love  me,  love  me ! 

Stafford.  No  matter  how  hard  I  tried  I  couldn't 
help  loving  you ! 

Virginia.    And  that's  all  I  want. 

(Stafford  and  Virginia  are  r;  Jimmie  opens  the 
door  L.,  cautiously  and  looks  in.) 

Jim.    May  I  come  in? 

Stafford.  Yes ;  and  go  out  again — ^that  way — 
(Points  to  door  back  and  crosses  to  l.  of  Jim) 
And  tell  Oku  to  bring  the  things  out  of  the  machine. 

Jim.    I  got  you. 

Stafford.     (Apart)    And  keep  your  mouth  shut. 

Jim.  (Apart)  You  bet  you!  (Stafford  goes 
R,   to  Virginia)      There's   just   one  thing  more. 

Stafford.    Yes  ? 

Jim.   When  do  I  go  back  to  work? 


96  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Stafford.    To-morrow. 

Jim.    What  salary? 

Stafford.    What  salary  were  you  getting? 

Jim.    Well — one  hundred  and  fifty  a  week ! 

Stafford.  You  were — for  about  fifteen  minutes. 
Well — one  hundred  and  fifty  goes. 

Jim.    {Goes  to  door  and  then  turning,  says:) 
And  do  we  get  the  c:\r  ? 

Stafford.    You  do ! 

Jim.    Fine !    {Exits  back) 

Stafford.    He's  still  the  same  old  Jimmie. 

Virginia.  And  you're  still  the  same  generous 
Robert! 

Stafford.    I  shall  never  miss  what  Jimmie  gets. 

Virginia.    And  it  means  so  much  to  them. 

Stafford.  I'm  glad  it  does.  I'm  glad  I  can 
make  them  happy — for  your  sake. 

Jim.    (Re-enters)    He's  coming! 

Virginia.    You  didn't  get  wet? 

Jim.  Not  while  I  have  my  voice.  I  stood  at  the 
door  and  shouted  to  him.  {There  is  a  knock 
at  door  back)    Come  in. 

(Oku  enters  back,  carrying  a  fur  coat  and  the  other 
things  to  be  used  by  Virginia  which  he  gives 
to  Stafford) 

Stafford.  Oku,  Mrs.  Stafford  has  finished  her 
visit  to  her  sister  and  is  coming  ho^ne. 

Virginia.    How  are  you,  Oku? 

Oku.    I  am  big  obliged.    Anything  else? 

Stafford.  Tell  the  chaufleur  we're  coming  right 
out. 

Oku,    Anything  else? 

Stafford,    No. 

Oku.  Then,  excuse,  please!  Excuse.  Oh,  I  am 
big  obliged!     (Exits  back) 

Stafford.    {Hold  up  coat)    Here  it  is 


BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR.  97 

(Fanny  opens  door  l.,  cautionsly — Jimmie  sees 
her.) 

Jim.    Come  in.    It's  all  right. 

Fanny.     {Enters,  to  Virginia)     Is  it? 

Virginia.  {Crosses  to  Fanny  i..)  Yes — ^and  I'm 
so  happy. 

Fanny.  So  am  I !  One  of  Jimmie's  ideas  turned 
out  right,  anyway. 

Virginia.    One  of  his  ideas? 

Fanny.    About  you  and  Robert ! 

Jim.     {Up  c)     Shut  up! 

Fanny.     Didn't  she  know? 

Jim.  Didn't  she  know !  (Jimmie  pantomimes 
his  disgust) 

Virginia.    Know  what  ? 

Fanny.    Why — why 

Virginia.  What  don't  I  know?  What  is  it  about 
you  and  me — {There  is  a  pause)  Robert,  tell  me — 
tell  me ! 

Robert.  {At  r.  end  of  table  c.)  I  will.  It  prob- 
ably would  have  come  up  sometime  and  perhaps  it's 
best  that  it  has  come  up  now.    Listen,  dear. 

Virginia.    Yes  ? 

Stafford.  Don't  you  think  it  would  be  best  to 
start  afresh  without  there  being  even  a  chance  for  a 
misunderstanding  between  us — start  on  a  basis  of 
absolute  truth? 

Virginia.  Certainly!  Aren't  we  starting  that 
way? 

Stafford.    No,  dear. 

Virginia.    Robert? 

Stafford.  There's  nothing  to  be  alarmed  about. 
Everything  is  all  right. 

Virginia.    Tell  me. 

Stafford.  Well,  dear,  now  please,  please  don't 
be  worried  about  it— when  I  came  I  thought  you  had 
sent  for  me. 

Virginia.  You  thought  I— then  everything  is 
wrong — everything ! 


98  BOUGHT  AND  PAID  FOR. 

Stafford.  No,  dear,  everything  is  right.  You 
were  fighting  for  a  principle.  Have  you  surrendered 
it? 

Virginia.    No. 

Stafford.  You  asked  for  a  promise.  I  gave  it 
So  that  is  settled,  isn't  it  ? 

Virginia,    Yes. 

Stafford.  You  said  you  wouldn't  send  for  me 
and  you  haven't.    Have  you? 

Virginia.    No. 

Stafford.  Then,  don't  you  see,  dear,  all  along 
the  line  you  won  the  victory  ? 

Jim.    It's  more  than  a  victory !    It's  a  landslide. 

Virginia.  You  thought  the  victory  was  yours, 
but  when  you  found  me  claiming  it  and  realized 
what  it  meant  to  me,  you  gave  it  to  me  without  a 
word.    That  was  a  big  thing  to  do. 

Stafford.  What  does  anything  matter  but  this  ? 
I  love  you,  you  love  me,  and  we  are  together  again. 
That's  everything,  isn't  it? 

Virginia.    Yes,  dear;  that's  everything. 

Stafford.    Then  come  along,  dear. 

Fanny.     Jimmie ! 

Jim.    Sure!    (Exits  back  c.) 

Stafford.  You  fix  this.  (He  gives  Fanny  the 
veil,  etc.,  for  Virginia's  head  and  she  adjusts  them. 
Jim  re-enters  with  rubbers  and  starts  to  put  them  on 
Virginia)  Now,  for  the  coat.  (Stafford  takes 
the  coat)  By  the  way,  I've  something  else  for  you. 
It's  from  Tiffany's 

Virginia.    Oh,  Robert,  didn't  I  tell  you  that ! 

Stafford.  Wait !  Wait !  You  don't  know  what 
it  is.  (  Takes  the  zvedding  ring  from  his  pocket  and 
holds  it  up)  "  With  eternal  love."  (He  places  the 
"^  on  her  finger) 

CURTAIN. 


iMRS.  WIGGS   OF   THE 
CABBAGE   PATCH 

Dramatization  in.  3  acts,  by  Anne  Crawford  Plexner  from 
the  novel   by   Alice   Ilegan   Rice.     15    males,    11   females. 

1  interior,  1  exterior.     Costumes  modern  and  rustic.     Plays 
B  full  evening. 

A  capital  dramatization  of  the  ever-beloved  Mrs.  Wigigs  and 
her  friends,  people  who  have  entered  the  hearts  and  minds  of  a 
nation.  Mrs.  Schultz  and  Lovey  Mary,  the  pessimistic  Miss  Hazy 
and  the  others  need  no  new  introduction.  Here  is  characteriza- 
tion, humor,  pathos,  and  what  is  best  and  most  appealing  in 
TDodern  American  life.  The  amateur  acting  rights  are  reserved 
for  the  present  in  all  cities  and  towns  where  there  are  stock 
companies.  Royalty  will  be  quoted  on  application  for  tbose  cities 
»nd  towAS  'where  it  may  be  presented  by  amateurs. 

Price,  75  Centf. 

THE   FOUR-FLUSHER 

Comedy  in  3  acts.    By  Cffisar  Dunn.     8  males,  5  females. 

2  interiors.    Modern  costumes.     Plays  2^/4  hours. 

A  comedy  of  hustling  American  youth,  "The  Four-Flusher"  is 
one  of  those  clean  and  bright  plays  which  reveal  the  most  appeal- 
ing characteristics  of  our  native  types.  Here  is  an  amusing  story 
of  a  young  shoe  clerk  who  through  cleverness,  personality,  and 
plenty  of  wholesome  faith  in  himself,  becomes  a  millionaire.  Tho 
play  is  best  described  as  "breezy."  It  is  full  of  human  touches, 
and  develops  a  most  interesting  story.  It  may  be  whole-heartedly 
recommended  to  high  schools.      (Royalty,  twenty-five  dollars.) 

Price,  75  Cents. 

PALS   FIRST 

Comedy  in  a  prologue  and  3  acts.  By  Lee  Wilson  Dodd. 
8  males,  3  females.  1  interior,  1  exterior.  Modern  cos- 
tumes.   Plays  2^2  hours. 

Based  on  the  successful  novel  of  the  same  name  by  F.  P. 
ElKott,  "Pals  First"  is  a  decidedly  picturesque  mystery  play. 
Danny  and  the  Dominie,  a  pair  of  tramps,  enter  a  mansion  and 
persuade  the  servants  and  friends  that  they  belong  there.  They 
are  not  altogether  wrong,  though  it  requires  the  intervention  of 
a  judge,  two  detectives,  a  villain  and  an  attractive  girl  to  un- 
tangle the  complications.  A  most  ingenious  play,  well  adapted 
to  performance  by  high  schools  and  colleges.  (Royalty,  twenty- 
five  dollars.)  Pries,  75  Cents. 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York  City 
Out  6iew  Descriptive  Catalogue  Sent  Fx«e  on  Request 


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